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About Google Book Search Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web at |http : //books . google . com/ 287(1 '-"'""liwwKiwwwi WS7 jj^ *B 335 '\3U 1905 ipr MAIN J^ CoPVttJGHTED TS99 BV M. WlTMARK & StiKil. Ail Rights Reserved Entehed at Stationers' Hall London, Bag. ^^ Lviscd and Copyrighted MCMV by M, Witmark & Sons. 1 < The Witmark Minstrel Guide. — Directory. THE VITHARK MALE QDiRTEHE FOLIOS Arranged by Chas. F. Shattuok PRICE, 50 CENTS EACH CONTENTS No.1 My Gal's a High Born Lady. Hush Yo' Business, Oh Go On. All Coons Look Alike to Me. Mr. Johnson, Turn Me Loose. Honey, Does Yer Love Yer Man? Leader of Company B. Uttnry^ Ymik Ifa Lady Love. Lucky Jim. Come Back My Honey, I'se Been You're So Good, Daddy. Only Me. I Love You in the Same Old Way, Sweet Claribelle. Sadie. My Lady. WITMARK GIRL MEDLEY. Genevieve — My Girl Is j Girl from Paris — And Joined In — Isabellc. ^«*i. Intro. Winner — They AK CONTENTS No. 2 Just One Girl. My Wild Irish Rose. Because. Tust as the Sun Went Down. rince a Light to Guide Me Home. Olcott's Lullaby. Mammy's Little Pumpkin Colored Coon. Zizzy Ze Zum Zum. Leader of Company R. llonev Dat 1 Love So Well. We'll Dn)wn It in the Bowl. SUfp. My Little Pickaninny. Sleep. llonev. Vou'sf Ma Lady Love. WITMARK roO\ MEDLEY. — Intro. Bye Bye. Belinda — We All Have Trouhle-i of Our Own I Didn't Marry All Yer Kin — When You Ain't Got No Money. Well. You Needn't Come 'Round — Honey Dai r Love So Well Lazy Bill— Lindv— Boni-Ba-Shay. CONTENTS No. 3 Always. When You Were Sweet Sixteen. I^ve Me Babe, My Honey, Do. You'se Honey to Yer Mammy Just the Sane. The Girl I Uft in Dixie Waits for Me. l^orcvcrnicic. My Little 'Lasses Candy Coon. Ma Tiger Lily. !'>rean»=. Ruth. If I Thought You Ixived Another. Always Keep Your Promise, Lad. You Ain't Changed a Bit from What You Used to Be. Say You Love Me, Sue. CONTENTS No. 4 My Elinorc. Just Cuddle in My Arms. Side By Side. Queen of Bohemia. Absence Makes the Heart Grow A. Private ia the Ranks. Wah Hoo. Kiss Me, Honey^ Dio — Dinah. Too Old to Lead the Choir. Mjt Home Girl Ma Blushin' Rosie — My Posic Sweet. Sing Me a Song of the South. Deep. I\iwn, Deep. Come, My Sweet Queen. WITMARK STAR MEDLEY. — Intro. A Private in the Ranks — Ma Raio- bow Coon — Sweet Sixteen — Florida Flo — and The Love Lorn Lily. CONTENTS No. 5 You Needn't Say the Kisses Came from Me. The Great Beyond — Semi-Sacred. We're .All Good Fellows. Dear Old Pipe. Stay in Your Own Back Yard. While Old (Jlory Waves. Nobody Ever Brings Presents to Me. Just My Little Yaller Boy and Mc. Sadie. Say You Won't Say Nay. 'Tis Better to Have Loved, and Lost, Than Never to Have Loved at All. The Passion Flower. Dear Old College Days. Sweet Maggie May. COON MEDLEY No. 2— Intro.— Tildy— Come Back. My Honey Boy to Mc — You Am de One — Lou Lou and Ma Blushin* Rosie. CONTZNTS No. 6 'Tis the Sweetest Song of All. Soldiers. Little Sallie Brown. The German Maennerchor. Tom, the Ne'er-Do-Well. Your Own. Good-Night. Beloved, Good-Night. Ma Starlight Sue. Come Out in the Garden with Mc. A Splinter from My Father's Wooden Pearly. 1 Never Knew 'Till Now How Much I Loved You. Faint Heart Never Won Fair Lady. Just a Line from Jennie. It's for Her, Her. Her. Pretty Mollie Shannon. The Crest Tradiivg Company gSil^^WISfc Tblb Witmark Minstrei. OxjiDn.—Dtr^cior}' KEEP YOUR LIBRARY STRAIGHT AND CLEAN BY BINDINO YOUR MUSIC WITH "The*Crest" MANDOLINp GUITAR, ORCHESTRA AND BAND COVERS. Quickstep Sfze^ (5x7) . per doz* $^«00 Single Covers, 15 cents. Octevb size, (7Kx«) " 2.00 Single Coveis, 26 cents. Theatre and Concert size (9>^xJ2j^) ^ 2.50 single Covers. SO cents. Sheet size, (U^zH^), Piano or Mandolm size . . . "" 3.00 w Single Covers, 85 cents. >^ StronOp dark cloth rinoino. Send worn one; and, ir vou lire it, scnd roR mors* ABOVE PRICES DO NOT INCLUDE POST, OR EXPRESS CHARGES.^ THE CRBST TRADING COMPANY. 144-146 West 37th Street, NewaYerk / ."."7 Contents^ SECTION I. PAOB **Gcntlerten. Be Seated** ' 1 Frank Dumont 8 Bleventh Street Opera House 6 SECTION II. Important Instructions for the Middle Man and Stage Manager 8 delecting the Talent and Arranging the Rehearsals II How to Black Up 14 How to Relate Jokes, or Tell a '•(*.ag" 17 SECTION III. A Valuable Dictionary of Stage Terms I'sed by Professionals 19 How to Produce Stage Effects 23 Colored Fires 23 Rain Effect 23 Wind Effect 23 Thunder Effect 24 Ughtning Effect 24 Glass Cra«-h 25 Wood Crash 25 Railroad Effect 25 Horse Effect 25 A List of Stage Don'ts 26 SECTION IV. Novel Innovations in Fir I Parts 27 "Our Navy ' 28 Sample Program 28 "The l,awn Party' 80 Sample Program 81 "Our Boys in Camp" 32 Sample Progam 33 "Our Girl Graduates" ... 34 Sample Program 35 "Uncle Toms Cabin" 86 Sample Program 87 "Congress of all Nations'* • 88 Sample Program 89 "Shakesperian Carnival" 40 Sample Program , 41 SECTION V. For Wn I.absterscope" 148 "Frolics in the Moon" 146 DIRECTORY ICO Section L "GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED** AND PAY ATTENTION TO A FEW WORDS BY THE AUTHOR. A MINSTREL entertainment gives the young amateur rare opportu- nities to display talent in the vocal, comedy and dancing lines. No form of entertainment is so replete with comedy, nor gives such universal satisfaction when well represented. It affords vocalists a chance to come out in solo or concerted work , and the young comedians or dancers excellent opportunities to shine forth and give full vent to their humor and wit. Minstrelsy is the one American form of amusement, ] purely our own, and it has lived and thrived even though the plantation ' darkey, who first gave it a character, has departed. The dandy negro has supplanted him, but the laughable blunders are still incorporated in the negro of the present time. The ballads of Stephen C. Foster, breathing of slave life and the cotton-fields, have been laid aside for the modern love song with a dramatic story or descriptive ballad, — yet the minstrels sing them and the change from ante-bellum days to the darkey of the present time, has been accomplished without percep- tion. Minstrelsy is the most popular form of amusement and is alway3 selected as a vehicle to present the talent of a club, college, school or ly short notice. Thb Witmark Minstrei. GUIDB. ELEVENTH STREET OPERA HOUSE, PHILADELPHIA, PA. ▼HEl^ DUMONT'S IWINSTREL COMPANY IS PERMANENTLY LOCATED. IT'S HISTORY AND SUCCESSFUL MISSION. SEVERAL generations have come and gone since the Eleventh Street Opera House first opened it's doors for laughing purpo- ses only. Its mission from the start was to amuse, and no other place of entertainment in the world has more successfully accomplished its purpose, nor can point with pride to its banner upon which is em- blazoned : Veni, Vidi, Vici. It came, it saw, and it conquered melancholia and gave merriment in abundance. The Eleventh Street Opera House was the 31st place of amusement in Philadelphia. It was opened by Sam Cartee, Dec. 4th, 1854. He made alterations in the building and called it Cartee' s Lyceum. The Company was called the ** Julien Serenaders," or Minstrels. In this company were E. F. Dixey, Ben Cotton and others who became popular ; but Cartee soon gave way to S. S. Sanford, who began April 23d, 1855, with Sanfords Minstrels. The opening bill contained the names of Cool White, Sanford, Kavanagh, Lynch, Dixey, Von Bonhurst and others. For a long time Sanford occupied this house of burlesque, and to a past generation catered successfully in every respect. In 1862 Carn- cross and Dixey assumed the reins of management, and under their guidance it continued to amuse, delight and interest Philadelphians. Upon its stage came a rapid succession of local burlesques, which has made this opera house famous the world over. After over a quarter of a century of successful permanency at the Eleventh Street Opera House, Carncross retired and was succeeded by Dumont's Min- strels, which constitutes the best minstrel talent in the country, and distances all its predecessors in the elegance of its vocalists, the humor of its burlesques, the attention to details, mise-en-scene and general appointments, to such an extent as to make it one of the front rank amusement attractions in Philadelphia to-day. Upon the stage of this familiar resort famous comedy and singing stars have received their first instructions and graduated. Among them may be mentioned : S. C. Campbell, Wm. Castle, Chauncey Olcott, Lew Dockstader, Weber and Fields, John C Rice, Edwin Foy, Press Eldridge, Gordon Thomas, the basso, and a host of former favorites now gathered to the silent majority. All these received a finished education in stage craft, which is ab- solutely needed in the work of presenting and portraying characters in the great burlesques written for this opera house, which is truly styled the ** Fountain Head of Minstrelsy," where originated almost everything humorous which one sees transplanted into the many pio> Th9 Witmark Minstrbi^ Gxtidb. The WlTMARK MlNSTRBI< GuiDE. K ductions that visit our city or that are given elsewhere. The great burlesque hits of this house of minstrelsy, still remembered with pleasure by its patrons, include the popular travesties, ** Pinafore,'* **Mr. Mikado," •*PecksBad Boy," "Helen's Babies," "Wanamaker's Restaurant," ** Broad Street Station," •'Yellow Kid," ' *' The Girl from Paris (Green)," **High Lung Chang," **Duke of Marlboro's Wedding," **Mrs. Bradley Martin's Ball" and hundreds of local sketches, which cre- ated their share of laughter, and were then laid aside, as the ''mill" is constantly grinding out merriment here, its prolific promoters believ- ing in onward evolutions. Rehearsals are in progress every morning, but no labor of any kind is permitted in the Opera House upon the Sabbath. The history of minstrelsy is closely interwoven with this famous place of amusement, which is known throughout the world. The present lessee, Mr. Geo. W. Barber, has been connected with the Opera House since 1876. The business manager, George S. Hetzell, has been here the same length of time. Both are indefatigable in their work for the comfort of patrons, the excellence of the entertain- ment and all its details. Frank Dumont has been here for years, and his work as an author and producer is well known to Philadelphians. Th« Ei*eventh Streets Opera House is noted for the character of its entertainments, is patronized by clergymen^ and is a household word among local and visiting pleasure-sed^ers. Section T[« IMPORTANT INSTRUCTIONS FOR THE MIDDLS MAN AND STAGK MANAGER. IN rehearsing the gags with the end men, be careful to impress upon them the necessity of selecting those of a varied nature in order to avoid similarity of subjects. One end man may represent the en- lightened, sarcastic darkey ; another, the dense fellow — jolly, but ignorant. Still another, the imitative or declamatory darkey, whose forte seems to be poetry or recitations ; then, again, you can have a sleepy, blundering fellow, mispronouncing words and totally at sea concerning etiquette or history, there being material enough in this book to suit all. Do not use dialect, nor allow it to be used, as it spoils the stories and is often unintelligible to the audience. It is for this reason that the gags, etc. , have not been written in dialect form. A mannerism of speech can be assumed without using the thick dialect of the Southern darkey, which is seldom heard among the latter-day children of Ham. Have the entire company participating in the opening chorus, on the stage five minutes before, prepared to be discovered standing before thtrir chairs when the curtain rises. See that every member is correctly attired, and, above all, that collars, cufiFs, shirt fronts and white vests (if used) of the gentlemen are spotless. Often the members of orchestras will not ** black up," which naturally would prevent them from sitting behind the circle. It is much better to have them seated in front, if it can be arranged, as the leader can then observe the singers, and the vocalists in turn can watch the leader. The musical conductor should always be seated in front to direct both singers and the orchestra, should the musicians even be seated on the stage. Every eye should be upon the director through- out the musical numbers of the first part. The middle man should have a list or routine of the gags and songs written upon his fan for his own safety and so that he can refresh his memory. He may arrange same something after this manner : 1. Overture. 6. Change of end men. 2. Squibs and Cross-fires, by 7. Song by Robbins. Kane ft Chase. 8. Ballad by Triller. 8. Comic Song by Platz. 9. Gag by Howard. 4. Ballad by Singem. 10. Comic Song by Rufot. 6. Gag by Williams. 11. Finale. of course using the matter of his own programme. This list wiU enable him to know exactly the routine of every song and gag in the first part, and by whom it is rendered, thus avoiding serious mistaken Th9 WiTMAJitK MlNSTREI< GUIDK. which are apt to spoil an entire performance. It is also a good idea for the middle man to jot down the first few words of each gag as a cue in the order they are told. In.struct the leader of orchestra to lay out all his' music in the rotation in which the songs will be rendered, and also mark the '* en- cores" in each orchestral part from where such encore is to be taken. This saves delay and dangerous mistakes. Be sure to rehearse each '*encore" asyou would your solos and other musical numbers, and thereby insure a smooth and perfect performance. Where the Wit- mark Minstrel Overture is used, the middle man*s cues are already marked and opening speeches incorporated. Such as : The chorus before rise of curtain — Introduction of end men — ''Gentlemen be seated," etc. All these features are arranged in this overture, which is replete with novel features, chorus selections, and innovations, making it one of the big successes of the famous minstrel companies of America. Now, where this overture is not used, the interlocutor will exclaim, "Gentlemen, be feated,'* and when seated announce 'Overture." Alter overture, and to give the mu.sicians time to change instruments, or turn pages of music, the end men and middle man indulge in a few squibs. These will be found in Section VI. A few conundrums may also be added after the overture. Then the middle man announces the first ballad somewhat after this style: ''The popular tenor, Mr, Blanks will renaer Ford and Bratton*s ballad success^ 'Don't Ask Me to Forget' " (Future ballad announcements are delivered in about the same manner, changing the style of language to avoid monotony). Then may follow a gag from one of the inside end men. (The out- side end men have, as a rule, the last gags and songs). By a careful perusal of Sections V. and VI. , the comedians may each be able to select a line of good gags which they can easily dove-tail by introducing ?. little original * * patter * ' relative to the gags. It is advisable to have only a little patter — a very little. After this, interlocutor announces : ''Mr Dash will sing the latest coon ditty y by A, B. Sloane, 'You*ve got to Play Rag-time.' " (Simi- lar announcements for other coon or end songs). If you have a change of end men. which is a prevailing novelty, rise and announce in this manner : * * / now take great pleasure in introducing the Kings of Mamus and Jesters, par excellence, Messrs, 'Ha-Ha * and 'He- He,' " As soon as this announcement is made, the outside end men leave the stage quickly to make room for end men just announced, who enter from opposite sides and cross to their seats, -bow and sit down. (Note. — End men who have just retired, can, in the meantime, be dressing for parts in the finale). The new-comers begin with a gag or a song which will be announced by the middle man. So the first part is kept running — song and gag — until all have had their innings.- Then the finale is presented. Selection can be made from material in Sections VII. and VIII. It is very often necessary to drop a scene in first grooves in order to set the stage for the finale. In that case the inter- I 4 to Th« Witmark Minstrel Guide. f . . — . ^ — ^ ^ locutor announces a quartette or a sextette or some specialty that can be done in one to consume enough time for the change of scene. As soon as announced, the singers step to the front and the drop is lowered. It is advisable no^ to place two tenor ballads one after the other in arranging your programme. Have a baritone or bass solo between ; it will be more effective. One of th'i most essential points is the proper selecting of varied songs. The publishers of this book will be pleased at any time to give advice on such matters upon application. Each comedian should have a ^uide of his own to study or make selections from for his individual work. This will expedite matters. The stage manager will arrange and prepare the programme for the printer and correct the proof, time each act, song and gag at rehearsal and will thus estimate the length of the performance. Avoid too much pomp- osity and the constant repetition of the word, **Sir." Be natural. Talk distinctly and loud so as to be heard by your audience, especially where a point is to be gained by the comedians. REMEMBER— *' Brevity is the soul of wit,'' so do not have 70ur show too long, as it may become tedious. ThB WiTMARK MINSTR9I. GUIDK. IS SELECTING THE TALENT AND ARRANGING THE REHEARSALS- AN EXHAUSTIVE TREATMENT. THE most important item in the beginning of your minstrel pre- parations will be the appointment of a competent and strict stage manager. The old saying, that "too many cooks spoil the broth,** is true in this case, as it would be in the culinary depart- ment of a hotel. One must conduct and direct the rehearsals, and it is better to have that one conversant with music, as it will aid in the rehearsals of the overture and other musical numbers, especially the playing of the Tambourines and Bones, which, while seemingly simple, require a vast amount of practise, (if more than two '*end men'* participate) to get the movements and taps alike, where to rest and fill in the time with graceful movements, or rising from chairs, going to cencre of stage, and with graceful evolutions return again to work uj> a spirited climax for an emphatic ending. All this must be rehearsed carefully under the direction of the stage manager. A very clever and original idea in Descriptive Overtures has been prepared expressly for this part of minstrelsy. It is entitled, **The Witmark Minstrel Over- ture and Opening Chorus, * * composed and arranged by Isidore Witmark. No detail is lacking in this overture. Instructions for every tap and every move are distinctly and comprehensively given. It has been a grand success with the professional troupes, and is within the ability of every amateur, both in its vocal and musical arrangement. In selecting your Middleman, it would be best to have one with good delivery, deep voice, good memory, and if he can be im- promptu in his replies, it will greatly aid the Comedian. He can have the **cues*' for titles of songs or jokes pinned or secured upon his fan, where he can glance at them unseen by the audience There should be frequent rehearsals for the End Men and the Middleman, whereby the jokes and dialogues can be thoroughly gone over and memorized. Call special rehearsals for the principals only, and an- nounce your date for all rehearsals two or four weeks in advance of the time of your performance. There will be no excuse for your members to make other engagements when dates are thus arranged. Demand full attendance at rehearsals, and, more than any thing else, strict attention. Stop all talking in the entrances, idle gossip and side le- marks that may annoy the stage manager and those intent upon their work. It is essential to secure a good pianist to teach the music to ladies and gentlemen of the * 'chorus,** and to assist the stage manager, who will be directing the * 'business. * ' It will now be necessary to select the talent in all departments to form a complete minstrel company. First, choose the singers compris- ing the vocal corps. An ordinary male quartette is composed of a ^rsit and Second Tenor, Baritone and Basso, (for female quartette^ The Witmark Minstrel Guide. First and Second Soprano, First and Second Contralto), but for minstrel part singing the **Male Alto" is a valuable acquisition for solo work, as his voice ''stands out" well in ensemble. Having selected a number of voices, j'ou will next turn your attention to the Comedians. This is a very important matter, as nine out of ten be- ginners imagine they are * 'funny," without having the least reason for thus guessing. This can best be determined by the manner in which they sing comic songs at rehearsal, or the manner in which they render a humorous recitation. A few tests will soon show the ability of the aspirant, who should abide by the decision of the stage director. The pages of this book will supply him with comic anecdotes and jokes, also the lines and suggestions for enacting the characters in Burlesques, etc. Having secured your opening chorus, the selecting of popular ballads and funny coon songs is in order. These can always be found E»ncM ORCHESTRA J( o o ^ ^ ^ O o ® B«MO o 80580 o Acro. amAsmBOo o° °Q EXTRA JlNQCRft Q Q * CNDMEN <5r AUDIENCE DIAORAM OP 8TAOB. in the extensive stock of M. Witmark & Sons, who are continually keeping strictly "up-to-date." A special catalogue of catalogues, entitled ** Are You Interested In Amateur Affairs?" embracing in- teresting suggestions of the latest vocal and instrumental hits of all kinds, will be sent on application. With j'^our rehearsals of ballads and comic songs, you will have taken the first important steps in your minstrel rehearsal. You must next determine the styles and settings of your ** first part." You will find in section IV., several suggestions. These are described and a sample program is given to each as a guide. The Finales, Olios, Specialties and Burlesques suitable for them will be found in sections VI., VII., VIII., IX. Be sure to rehearse with ** props" and an the night have them Thk Witmark Minstrel Guide. 13 in their proper places. A special i:iaii should look after them and see ihat every character requiring '* props *' is taken care of, The position ^f the gentlemen in the circle is outlined in the diagram on preceding page, but changes can be made to suit the con- ditions In arranging the first part select a handsome palace, conservatory or columned interior for the set of the above ** First Part/' You place the musicians behind the circle of singers and comedians, upon an ele- vation or staging, high enough to be over the heads of the front circle, when seated, also second (ircle, if you care to have one. The ** set" above described is for a handsome interior *^* First Part,'* in which the costumes may be of regulation evening dress suit, court dresses, or any costuming suitable for interior pictures. From the ideas thus advanced the amateur will be enabled to frame a *' first part ' ' of his own liking and costume it from the resources at his command. 14 The Witmark Minstrel Guide. HOW TO BLACK UP. AN INSTRUCTIVE INTERVIEW. A REPORTER of the Evening Star called upon Mr. Dumont last evening in his dressing room of the pretty Eleventh Street Opera House, wherein Dumont' s minstrels nightly hold forth. The members of the company were preparing their ** faces,*' to appear as darkies in the first part, and were applying the burnt cork. All this was a revelation to the reporter and a peep behind the scenes, a privi- lege granted but to a few. ** What is that you are putting on your face, is it black paint? *' ** No indeed," replied Dumont, ** it is burnt cork, a very simple preparation, but nothing has ever been invented to take its place. First, we get a lot of champagne corks, or remnants o^ cork from a cork stopper factory. These are placed in an o'd tin pail — which serves as a furnace — and then ignited. A few holes in the pail which furnish draught for the blazing corks. When they have been thoroughly burned, they are crushed and reduced to a powder b>- hand. Then this powder is moistened with water, and we run it BLACKING UP AND ADJUSTING WIG. through a small paint mill to grind it fine. Then we place the paste thus made into tin boxes and it is ready for use. You moisten with a little water the quantity you need as you are applying it to the face. We do not mix any thing else with it, although I have seen various recipes calling for vaseline and other ingredients.** '*How is it applied?" **Take some into the palm of your left hand, rub it over the palms as if about to wash your face; then smear it over the features as if applying a cosmetic. Carefully apply it around the eyes and about the lips.** ** Do you paint the lips red ? '* ** No, sir; when yon have applied the cork and left the lips in the natural conditio i they will appear red to the audience. Comedians leave a wider^white margin all around the lips. This will give it the appearance of a large mouth, and will look red to the spectator. Having blackened my fea tures. I now take my sponge and with it wipe the palms of both hands. Thi i i ; for a double reason. It represents the real color of the colored The Witmaric Minstrel Guide. is man's hand; at the same time deans that portion of the hands for-the remainder of the make up for the stage. Thus you canf handle thife white vest, bosom of shirt, collars ard ties without soiling them. *' You will notice that in * blacking up* I use an old under gar*- ment commonly called an * undershirt.' This is used to keep spotless white, the bosom of the article in which 1 appear before an audience. Now, you will observe that I am all 'blacked up.' " ** Yes," said the reporter, **but what has often puzzled me is how do you fix, or paste on your face, the white hair to represent old darkies ? " ** That is quite easy to represent, after blacking up, we use chalk. Drop chalk we call it, and it is obtained at the wig man's or your drug store. You just outline eyebrows with it, chin whiskers or a grey beard. It's all done with this chalk. A * bald ' wig with just a fringe of grey wool is placed on the head, and large brass rimmed spectacles on > our nose, and yoii've got an old * Uncle Tom,' and the picture of an aged colored individual." '* Then it's all in the wig and a bit of chalk ? " ** Yes, ADJUSTING OLD MAN*S "WIG, BEARD AND EYBBROWS. sir; excepting you desire to adjust a bare gray beard which can be bad of the wigmaker or costumer.* Now you see lam blacked up and I take a small soft brush, which also get at wigmaker's, to rub off the particles of cork from my features to prevent them from falling on my white shirt front and white vest." *'I see, I see!" *'Now, sir; I put on my creamy white shirt, after I am thoroughly blacked up; then a paper or celluloid collar, a small black tie — some use a white tie — then my cuffs, either of paper or celluloid. Now I put on my white ve^^t. Here my clean hands do not soil the vest as I button it." *' Now I see why you used your sponge upon the palms of them." ** Certainly; now I put on my swallow-tailed coat, with a flashy flower or * boutonierre ' in its lapel, and I resemble a perfect Beau Brummel, do I not?" **You do," said the reporter, " and those satin knickerbockers? " "They are e compromise between the old and new style of dress. I do not use the silk and plush costumes here, so we wear black satin knee pants, black stockings and low cut patent leather shoes.. This is very genteel, dressy and in keeping with minstrelsy. It is also full evening dress as adopted by the * Four Hundred,' so you see we are * in it' so to speak." **I understand that it is quite the fad for ladies to give a ♦ Set directory back of ImxjW. i6 Thb Witmark Minstrki^ Guidb. mitistrel entertainment. * ' * • Yes, indeed; it is more popular than ever. Why this season I have furnished material for several entertainments, given by ladies only. ' * * * How do they blacken up ? ' * * * Pretty much as we do. It would* nt do for them to put on their complete costumes first. That would surely spoil them. No, they commence as we do, then attire themselves in their stage costumes. Where they wear short sleeves they do not blacken the arms, but wear long black silk or ordi- nary gloves, and, by the way, we sometimes do not blacken the hands, but wear black gloves or white ones. I have my minstrel company blacken the hands, especially musicians, who cnnnot wear gloves for such instruments as violins, flutes, clarinets, double basso, etc. Therefore to * look alike ' we blacken our hands. The ladies, how- ever, all wear black gloves except the * end men.' You see I call them * end men * even if they are ladies." ** One thing more,** said the re- porter. * Now the cork is on, how do you get it off? Scrape* it off with a knife?*' Mr. Dumont laughed of course at the scraping part of the make-up. * I just remove all my finery,' said he, *also the make-up shirt, and with a sponge and a cake of soap I go at it.' I make a good lather and smear it over my face — then with the sponge well soaped, I go over the face and neck, and presto, the cork has almost vanished. No hard rubbing is necessary. Plenty of lather r'anS a sponge. Then go over the face once more and then rinse your j ' * features' ' in a bucket of fresh water — if you can get it — ^and once more I you are a Caucasian ready to take up the ' white man's burden,' in- [ stead of the coon's. You can catch the idea from my explanation, but •'^you wait until after the show, I will be pleased to give you a practical demonstration, — how simple it is. It's easy to take off if you do so properly. After you are washed and features are dried with a towel, use a little powdered magnesia upon the face." By this time Mr. Dumont and his troupe were ready and they descended to the stage. I heard the bell ring and the curtain arose upon the handsome circle of minstrels. The Interlocutor said, *'be seated, gentlemen." They bowed, sat down, and then began their '* First Part." Thb Witmark Minstrbi. Guidb. 17 HOW TO RELATE JOKES, OR TO TELL A ^^GAG/' THB NEWSPAPER MAN **AT IT" AGAIN. ** Pardon me, Mr. Dumont," said the reporter, "but here I am again to bother you." " No trouble, sir. What is it? " ** I want to know if you have a system or a method for telling gags, relating jokes such as you and your end men do nightly in your Opera House V " Well, that is rather a peculiar question, but one that has often been asked," said the minstrel manager. ** There is certainly a style and a jolly manner to be assumed in relating a story, especially while seated as * Bones' or ' Tambourine' . Imagine a blank-faced fellow telling a very funny story with features immovable, looking sad, expressionless and as if he didn't have a friend in the world. How can he expect his audience to show signs of mirth with his funereal countenance and slow delivery, especially in this age of rapid transit ? " ** l hat's very true, Mr. Dumont." *• Now, Hughey Dougherty and myself begin our fusilade of chatter as if we enjoy^ it, and I confess that we do. Once or twice your newspapers remarked that the middle man had to laugh at the jokes, consequently they were fresh and funny to him. That was a compliment and a truth. Dougherty is one of the cleverest, fun- niest and most witty of comedians. He is spontaneous, and most of our gagging is impromptu, I start in speaking of some local fad or hap* pening and Hughey turns it into ridicule. Before several nights we have a roaring joke or gag constructed. But all jokes or gags are not evolved in this manner. The comedian writes them out and studies the points, delivery, inflection of voice, and the words leading up to the finish or climax; as on that he depends for his big laugh to terminate his story or gag." **Then," said the reporter, '* it's very much like studying elocution ? " ** It is harder; you can't learn to be a poet, nor can you learn to be a comedian. You must have some natural talent and a sense of humor. Some men in a circle of friends will relate an anecdote which in its brevity and mimicry or tone of voice will be funny to all listeners. Then others will begin a story, a long, tedious preface, useless words, a story long spun out, and when the climax is reached, you yawn and laugh, a hollow laugh, just to be polite; but you're mighty glad the bore or drowsy story-teller has finished. He can't tell a story, and yet he inflicts it upon you, if he gets a chance." **I have met the man you describe," said the reporter. " Well, sir, the comedian telling his gag, studies to avoid that and must avoid it. Everything depends upon his jolly manner (unless he assumes a sorrowful or sarcastic manner, which is necessary in telling some gags), the quick reply of the middle man, and the emphasis here and there upon certain words, especially when he plays upon words. Don't rattle off your story like a poll parrot, nor smother your voice when coming to a point. Keep the voice up. Don't let it drop in con- cluding 3'our words, wherein lies the point of your joke or story. That is natural elocution. We do not need the ultra dramatic idea of speak- i8 The Witmark Minstrel Guide. ing for minstrel business; not a bit of it! Speak naturally, without dialisct, as it is not used by the end men. Keep the dialect for yovir imitations of colored preachers or old darkies. Dialect spoils the story and detracts from it." ** I wish you could give me an idea of how to tell a gag or joke,'* said the reporter. ** I do not know that I can give you a lesson or rather a kindergarten idea of how to relate a gag; but, if you will listen, I'll run through a short story and you can gain an idea of how to deliver a few lines in the joke department. For instance, the end man will commence laughing as if he had just thought of some- thing. I say to him ; * What seems to amuse you ? Tell me; let me enjoy it also.' He says: * Something funny happened to me. I was standing on the comer and along came a policeman, and he says: ' Do you play checkers}* Isay*Yes.' * Well,' says the cop, *it's^t?7^r move!' I moved or he would have jumped me right there!* Now, that's simple, isn't it? But do you see where I raised my voice or made certain words prom- inent or emphatic ? Relate the above without punctuation or emphasis atfd it would be very flat indeed." **It would," assented the re- porter. **And now for a bit of mimicry," said Dumout. ** Two cross- eyed men on bicycles ran into each other. Oh! what a collision! They sprawled all over the street; one cross-eyed man said to the other (im- itating his voice): * Why don't you look where you're going? * The other cross-eyed man said (imitating angry man) : * If you'd gone the way you were looking this wouldn't have happened. ' Do you note that I kept the tone of voice up as I neared the conclusion of this short joke? I imitated the tone of voice of the two angry cross-eyed men also." ** You certainly did," said the reporter. ** And now to relate a sen- sational story, thus: I heard the cry of fire and saw a woman at the third story of the burning house. I rushed upstairs; it was your mother- in-law. I took her in my arms and carried her all the way down stairs and landed her safe on the side walk." The middle man says: ** What nonsense! My mother-in-law weighs nearly three hundred pounds. You couldn't lift her ofiF the floor, and you certainly couldn't carry her down from the third floor in your arms! " The end man sees that he blundered, but is going to stick to his lie and bluff it out, so he says: "I knew what I did, I saved your mother-in-law. I carried her down. I was there when I did it. ' ' Middleman says to him: * ' You did nothing of the kind; you couldn't lift her on account of her three hundred pounds in weight. So how could you carry her down f " A gleam of satisfaction shoots over the end man's face, as if he had just thought of a brilliant lie or excuse. He turns and says to me, * I made two trips of it; I went up twice after her! ' He says this distinctly and in a tri- umphRut, laughing manner, pointing his finger at me and in slang par- lance ' giving me the laugh.' That, sir, is how to successfully relate a joke." Section TTI^ A VALUABLE DICTIONARY OF STAGE TERMS USED BY PROFESSIONALS- DJl£. CD. IXL£. SCENC. AUDIENCE. DIAO&AM OP THE STAOB. L, I. E. Means left first entrance. R. I. E. Means right first entrance. R. (J. E. Right upper entrance. L, U. E, Left upper entrance. C Means centre of stage. R. C. Right centre of stage. Z. C, Left centre of stage. C D, Centre door. D, R. C, Door right centre. D, L. C. Door left centre. Door F, Means door in flat. Flat, Is a scene of any kind, where canvas is stretched on frames. Drop. A scene that can be rolled up or let down like a curtain. Tormentors. The first set of wings (or drapery painted wings) down front — acting a ** picture frame " for balance of scenery. Grooves. The upper slots wherein the flats or scenes are fitted when pushed out upon the stage or drawn into entrances. 20 Thb Witmark Minstrel Guide. Borders, The drapery above such as ** sky," * wood," ** foliage " or *• interior" borders, etc. Backing, Is used behind op2n doors ; sometimes it is a garden scene which is seen through open do"rs. or a chamber or any in-door or out-door scene, placed beyond an open door arch, or other scenic opening. Mask in. Means to conceal the article or screen from view by other bits of scenery, such as using a wing, or a door, curtains, tree, or screen, to hide the principal object until it is revealed in the course of the play. Closed in. Means that the scene is closed by lowering a *'drop," or moving on ** flats " to thus end the farce or burlesque. Set in One, Means scenes in the first grooves, down near foot-lights. These *' Scenes in One " are generally used when the stage is being set for another scene. Set Cottage, Means a practical house, cottage or other habitation placed at an entrance and braced to keep it in position. Set Waters. These a e pointed waves or " water ** scenes which rest on the stage and are used in sea -shore or marine farces. Sometimes one or more rows are used, when boats are drawn on or between them. Set Fire-Place, An opening in the scene or set piece to represent a chimney-place or a grate fire. Brace. Is a long or short pole with a twisted iron at one end to hook into rings or screw-eyes, and an iron at the other end to enable it to be secured to the stage. They are used to hold up scenes and set pieces, to *• brace " a cottage, a wall, a fence, **waters," trees or any stage objects. Battens. Narrow strips of wood to which drops are tacked either top or bottom. This enables them to be pulled up by ropes, or se- cured to the stage by screw-eyes. Props, Means all articles used in the farce, burlesque or comedy, such as : Bread, knives pistols, clubs, clock, table, chairs, etc. Stage Screw-Eyes. Iron screws with rings. These are screwed into the .stage by hand to hold objects or braces. Grass Mats. These mats are simply ordinary cocoa mats dyed green. to imitate grass or shrubbery. They are invaluable to the stage manager to place about tubs of plants or for **Lawn" effects in out-door scenes. Foot Lights, Lights at the edge of the stage. Border Lights, Lights swung above ; across the stage to illuminate the top of scene. Up Lights, Means to raise the lights. Lights Half Dow7i, Means to lower them to have a half darkened scene. Business. Anything done upon the stage while speaking or acting. " To remove a coat," ** move a table," **shoot a pistol," ''seize Th9 Witmark Minstrel Guidb. 21 and pummel any one,*' ** hiding behind a screen and peeping over.'' ** showing fright, joy, surprise, anger," all come under the head of * * business * This is one of the things hardest to explain pro|)erly, illustrate or teach the young beginner. He or she must closely follow the directions of the stage manager during his arduous labor to convev his meaning, etc., to his company. In holding a play book to rehearse, remember that you are always facing the audience. Btis, Abbreviation for * * business. ' ' Straight Business. This is a part wherein the genteel character ** feeds '* the comedy, and it is generally the educated man en- lightening the ignorant intruder or companion in the sketch or farce. The genteel character is also known as the *' Walking Gentleman ' ' of the dramatic stage. Ginger. To perform in a lively manner. Patter, The ** talk *' or ** chatter ' ased in a monologue, or between verses of songs The ** patter ** is generally applied to all des- criptive dialogue used by Raconteurs (story-tellers). Feeding. This is where a character talks with the express purpose of having the comedian reply in a humorous manner, or to lead up in dialogue to the ** points ' in his speeches. Paints. The emphatic part of a speech, pun or retort wherein the laugh is expected from the force of the remark, or its explana- tion. This is also frequently the ending of a joke or recitation where the full force of the story culminates. Cross-fire. A running ** Talk " between the two End Men or Special- ists, in which they indulge in repartee — questions, short squibs, satire, sarcasm and jokes — at each other's or the middleman's expense. Climax. The grand ending or conclusion of a speech or piece of busi- ness. It is frequently applied to a forcible situation in a drama comedy, or burlesque. Ad. lib. Abbreviation for ad libitum. At discretion. Exit. Means to leave the stage. An outlet from the stage. Exeunt. All exit. Enter. Means to come on the stage from some entrance described in the play-book. Right or Left. Omnes. Means everybody — all the characters. Cross. Means to cross the stage, but be careful not to do so in front of any one unless the ** business" is arranged by the stage manager, as it is considered one of the worst breaches of stage etiquette. Aside. In dialogue, means that portion not to be overheard by the performer who is being addressed, or, rather, a bit of dialogue intended for the audience, such as: ** Now for the borrowing of the money," or, " He doesn't recognize me," ** Well, I'll get out of this." «2 Thb Witmark Minstrki. Guide. [Aloud. Resuming dialogue in the natural voice and addressing those on the stage. K-Cue. Is the important ending of a speech where the next person to whom this ** cue *' is given — will speak his or her lines. It gen- erally consists of a few words written thusly: shall go home^ and this is a ** cue ' to the one having the words in the part or book. Cues, for ** businers or ** music ** are given in a similar manner. Everything is doi'.e upon the stage by cues, and particular attention must be paid to them. Discovered. Means that a person or article is on the stage when the curtain is raised or when flats are drawn. Ta^. The closing words uttered by a character or characters in any musical or dramatic performance. Encore, To repeat by demand of an audience the song, speech, or recitation just given. JJnder dress. Means to have a costume for male or female beneath the one in view. This is done to save time and to hurriedly change costume when the part calls for it. Often several ** under dresses " are necessary. Jnrst Part. Is the initial portion of a minstrel entertainment where the circle is formed with singers, comedians, orchestra and middle man. It generally condudes with a musical comedy or burlesque called a '* Finale.'* Finale. Means the ending number of the First Part of a minstrel per- formance. Under this caption local or musical burlesques are introduced. -Olio, This is the portion following the first part or minstrel circle. Under the title of ** Olio,*' all the specialties, sketches, dances, monologues, solos, etc., are grouped, and it marks the division of the entertainment in a vaudeville or minstrel performance. After-Piece. The condudi&g numbers of a programme and generally a pretentious burlesque introdudng nearly all the company. (See Sec. VIII.) Jnterlacutar. Another name for the middle man. The Witm vrk Minstrei. Guide. 2^ HOW TO PRODUCE STAGE EFFECTS. COLORED FIRES, THUNDER, I,IGHTNING, CRASHES, HORSE, WIND AND RAIN. ALL the abov6 effects may be used in a minstrel perfonnance, as the Burlesques frequently call f9r them. Therefore, the young amaceur and stage manager should become familiar with each and every *' effect" needed. Colored fires are used for Tableaux. Battle Scenes, " House on Fire" and Patriotic or Allegorical Illumiv nations. They are made of the following ingredients, and can be manufactured by the young amateur or purchased from **Fire Works" stores.'*^ The materials needed can also be had and compounded at any driifg store. ^ RED FIRE. Strbntia, 8 ounces: Potash 4 ounces Shellac, 2 ounces- Lycopodium ^ X ounce- BLUE FIRE. Nitre, Bounces Sulphur, 3 ounces. Charcoal, % ounce Antimony i ounce GREEN FIRE. Nitrate of Barytes, 62 >^ parts Sulphur, io>i parts . Potash 23^ parts Orpinient, . . . i}i parts Charcoal, . i>^ parts These fires are burned on an ordinary coal shovel or pan, and can be Ignited by a quick match, or cotton cord soaked in oil, if a quick match cannot be obtained. Hold the pan over the head as the fire is burning; this will illumine the surroundings much better. RAIN. To imitate rain, place a lot of dried peas or almond shells in a long box, so you can tip it up and down like a see-saw. In the bottom of the box nail bits of wood as obstructions. The peas or shells falling over these produce the sound of rain. You can place this box in a hanging position and work it up and down with ropes. Dried peas shaken on the head of a bass drum will also give the desired e£Eect. WIND. Bits of old silk drawn over the edges of the bass drum, or a board, will make a whistling sound. This effect is not used very much im minstrelsy. • See directory at back of cover. The Witmakk Minstrel Guide. THUNDER. Suspend long piece of sheet iron from ** flies** in first en- trance, and shake it vigorously. This will make a good substitute for thunder. Pounding on a bass, drum will also give the booming sound of thunder or firing of cannon. LIGHTNING. Lightning is furnished by ly- copodium. It can be purchased at any drug store. Put the lyco- podium into a small box, in the top of which many small holes have been made like that of a pepper box. In the centre of this box is soldered a small cup or receptable, into which cotton soaked with alcohol is placed. This is secured by a bit of wire to keep it from falling out when this box is moved to and fro. At the bottom of this tin box is another tin sock- et, into which is placed a piece of wood or part of broom stick to serve as a handle A small opening can be made in the side of the box to pour in the lycopodium, and then cork it up. Here is the illustration of what is called a " flash " torch with which lightning is made : THUNOER KFFKCT. ty-. UOHTXING TORCH. A. — Perforated top and socket holding the alcohol-soaked cotton. B. — Bowl or box to hold lycopodium. C. — Socket to hold the wooden handle. Z>.— Handle. E. — Tube to pour in the lycopodium. Strike forward with this torch and "lightning" will follow. The Witmark Minstrei. Guide. 25 GLASS CRASH. Get a pail filled with broken bottles, glass, old crockery, etc. Empty this into another pail by elevating the pail of crockery quite high and spilling it into the empty one, and vice versa, as length of crash is required. WOOD CRASH. Numerous bits of old lumber thrown violently down will produce a '*wood crash.** Sometimes it is constructed like a large '* rattle" and turned by a crank. This is arranged on an upright or a frame, and is very effective in imitating a terrific crashing or the fall of some one. See cut. WOOD QRASa. RAILROAD EFFECT. Take a piece of sheet-iron and place it upon a small table or box, then beat upon it with two ** whips*' of wires fashioned like egg-beaters. Beat a tattoo upon the sheet-iron and by a little practice you can easily imitate a train at ^ull speed or slowing up. The * * whistle * ' can be made by an ** organ pipe *' or by the voice. HORSE EFFECTS. The clattering of hoofs, announcing the rapid approach of a horse, is a very effective trick, and by a little practice can be done in a manner to imitate a horse galloping in the dis- tance and drawing nearer and nearer, or vice versa, A small oaken or maple board about a foot and a half long and a toot wide, suspended in front of the person by a strap, will serve as the ' * table. * * Upon this you beat with two round or oblong pieces of maple, to which are attached little straps, for the purpose of giving the hands a secure hold upon them. With little practice this effect can be readily accomplished. BOKSB EFFECTS. 26 J The Witmakk Minstrel Guide. A LIST OF STAGE DON'TS. A GOOD IDEA FOR THE STAGE MANAGER IS TO HAVE THIS READ TO THE COMPANY OCCASIONALLY ; MORE FREQUENTLY WHEN NEARING THE PERFORMANCE. Don't cross your legs in the ** first part." Don't make visible efforts to recognize your friends out front. Re- member that it spoils the picture. Don't fail to watch the musical director in all chorus work. Don't speak to your neighbor while sitting in the first part unless it is absolutely necessary. Doji't keep the stage waiting ; rather be at the theatre or hall an hour earlier than a minute late. Don't sit forlorn looking or with a bored expression upon your face. Look pleasant and enjoy what is being said and done without being too demonstrative. Do7i't be eager to suggest or try to teach the stage manager his business. Dont think you are the whole show. There may be twenty others in the same circle. Don't grumble, because you haven't the best parts. Remember that while everybody cannot play ** first violin" in the orchestra, everybody is important in a minstrel show. Don't look slovenly or careless in your attire. Very Important. Do7i't pull out your watch (if you have one) to note the length of time. That will be regulated by the stage manajrcr. Doji't interfere in any way with the rehearsals, if a bright thought strikes you; wait and suggest it later on. Don't turn around and giggle if anybody makes a mistake or a string breaks on an instrument. You wouldn't like to be laughed at in public, would you ? Don't have any friends or outsiders present at a rehearsal. This should be strictly enforced. Don't pass remarks about any thing in the course of rehearsals or when a person is striving to learn a part. Remember, we can't all be as smart as you are ? Don't smoke, Gentlemen, on any part of the stage. Don't leave the stage unless it is your duty or necessary to do so. Don't expectorate upon the stage, 'Gentlemen. During performance 1 carry kerchiefs for that purpose, and lastly ; Don't monopolize alt the hooks, nails and space in the dressing rooms. Section 1U* ^^ oe 4 oe ^fr NOVEL INNOVATIONS IN FIRST PARTS. ^T^HERE are a number of ideas advanced in this 1 book that have never been published nor pro- duced elsewhere. At considerable expense, thought and many months of labor, these brilliant first parts are arranged in this work and given to the amateur minstrel for the first time in the his- tory of stnge publications. In connection with the.se first parts we present illustrations that will aid those desiring to take advantage of these nov- elties in arranging their pictures, costumes scen- ery and general grouping of each innovation, remembering, however, that tluse are o/f/y sug- gesiions and need not be strictly adhered to, as there are unlimited possibilities to elaborate upon. Another very important item is the .sample pro- gramme which accompanies each Fir.st Part of this book, suggesting the songs, (which can be had of the publishers), olio specialties and after-pieces of the evening's entertainment. The first we offer is entitled *'Our Navy.'* ^T" oe % oe ^^r Thk Witmark Minstrei. Guide. ThB WITMARK MiNSTRHL GuIDB. 3f PICTORIAL FIRST PARTS. ««• "OUR NAVY.'*— FIRST PART. (See Illustration.) Scene represents the deck of one of Uncle Sam's Cruisers or Battle-ships. Horizon at back. The wings are painted to represent the Tigt^ng leading up to a mast and a part of the bulwarks of the vessel. Th-^ officers, gunners and crew form the circle of the " First Part," which can be seated upon platforms as used for interior scenes. The middleman is the "Admiral/* the singers are the officers, the endmen are " rapid-fire " gunners. All are dressed according to uni- forms worn in the United States Navy. Note.— This first e£fecttve in either white or black face. PLAN OF FIRST PART. oooooooo Orchestra o l,eader. Men Behind the Guns. ooooooooo Admiral. Bass. Baritone. ( Mr. Dewey Shootwell.) 2d Tenor. Ist Tenor. Officers, o o o -o Officers. Bxtra Singers. ooo ooo Extra Singers. •• Rapid-Fire " Gunners, o o o o " Rapid- Fire •* Gunners. OPBNING CHORUS— '• The Witmark Minstrel Overture." .... "OUR NAVY" MINSTRKI*S Synopsis.— 1. Curtain Raiser. 2. Introductory, Bones and Tambos. 3. Opening Bnsemble. 4. "Anvil Chorus" (Trovatorc). 5. Waltz Song, "Mary." 6. Drink- ing Song. 7. "My Dainty Cigarette." 8. Sleighing Chorus. 9. Whistling and Humming Interlude. 10. Coon Refrain. 11. Finale. Sea Song—" Bounding," Mr. R. U. Warbling Neat End Specialty—^- Willie off the Yacht, " Gunner Smith Bass Song—" Deep, Down Deep," Mr. Campanari Roberts Coon Song—" Mandy from Mandalay," Ragtime Gumper Waltz Song—" Sweet, Sweet Love," Mr. Vocal Chords Comic Novelty— "She Knew a Lobster When She Saw One," Gunner Rigging Ballad— "In Fancy You Are Ever By My Side." Mr. Retrospect DrinkingSong-" We'll Drown It in the Bowl," Rear-Admiral Ofomnies Song and Refrain— " Where is My Boy To-Night ?" Mr. Bowsprit Negro Shout—" Ram-a-Jam," Gunner Boozy The Intensely Amusing Finale, "THE WONDERFUL TELEPHONE," or a Long Distance Experiment, by Admiral Shootwell, Gunner Jenkins and Gunner Smokeless. PART n. Olla Podrida of Novelties.— The Celebrated Musical Experts, PLINK and PLUNK, In their laughable interlude, called "The Mu.sical Convicts," playing on many known and unknown instruments, depicting the pleasant life of jail biros, if " Harmony prevails." Deck Oration.— BOATSWAIN WINDY GUFF, Reviewing the exploits of heroes, past and present (Section VII.), also the fads and follies of the times. "Thb Men Behind The Guns."— Messrs. SHELL and DYNAMITE. In a laughable melange of up-to-date happenings, wise and otherwise. (Can be mftde up of matter contained in Sections VI. and VII. >. Picture Songs. Beautiful Views Illustrating the Popular Ballads, "A Letter from Ohio," "Gold Cannot Buy a Love Like Mine," etc., sung and introduced by MR. R. U. WARBLING. (For list of Illustrated Songs and particulars, see Directory.) Concluding with the Laughable Burlesque, "A PLEASANT EVENING." (See Section IX.) Another good terminating burlesque would be " Thb Lobsterscopb." (See Section X.) Ths Withark Minstrbl Guidb. 30 ThB WlTMARK MlNSTRSL GuiDB. 31 **THE LAWN PARTY/ Scene represents a garden brilliantly illuniinated. (See illustration.) Part of a mansion I^. U. E. can be shown. Place a number of .shrubs, plants, etc., in tubs about the stage, and here and there some grass mats. Use cnnip chairs for vocalists, rustic chair for middle man, wooden chairs for the endmen. who are supposed to be the waiters or household servants. In this circle can be placed .several ladies in order to get the chorus effect of mixed voices. The costumes can be handsome golf or bicycle tlres.ses, with here and there an outdoor costume of colors. The endmen can dress in the regulation eveninjf dress suits The Telephont Finale or the Shadow Pantomime can be introduced to bring the First Part to a climax. If you select the Shadow Pan- tomime, use a front scene in order lo get your " sheet '' and lights ready. Here the vocal corps will render selections in the front .scene in order to prepare the i>antomime. Kxtra Singers on the The Guests. o Porch or Veranda. O The Host. o o o o o singers. Middleman. The Guests. o o o o o o o o Singers. o Boaes.— Attendants. o Waiters.— Tambos. • o o o o o PROGRAMME.— PART L OPENING CHORUS— "The Witmark Minstrel Overture," Lawn Party MinstkblS Sykopsis. — 1. Curtain Raiser. 2. Introductory, Bones and Tambos. S. Opening Bnsemble. 4. "Anvil Chorus," (Trovatore). 5. Waltz Song, "Mary." 6. Drinking Song. 7. "My Dainty Cigarette." 8. Sleighing Chorus. 0. Whistling and Humming Interlude. 10. Coon Refrain. 11. Finale. Soprano Solo— "Don't Ask Me to Forget." Miss High C N Coon Song— "I'm the Warmest Member in the I^and," Waiter Rufus Songand^Chorus—" When yoti were Sweet Sixteen," Mr. Uppertone End Song— "Tell It to Me," Attendant Gam *• Harmonized Knsenible, with half darkened .stage — " My Mttle, 'I^asses Candy Coon," Solo by Miss So and So V Dialect Shout— "I I^ove Ma Ijttle Honey," Waiter Ephraim Dashing March Song— " Miss Divinity," " • * Miss Flighty Baritone Solo— "Because." Mr. Voche Ethiopian Novelty—" You Got to Play Rag Time." Attendant Jim Ballad— "Just as the Daylight was Breaking," Mr. Great Solo ,,. ,^ _^ ^^ .. _. _^ __ ^, -- „ „ ( Misses High C and Round Tone Mixed Quartette-" Some Day You Shall Know" (Me.ssrs. Velvety and Smooth. NoTK. — Drop sheet after Quartette are announced and introduced or when "chord** Js played by musicians. ' Finale— "THE WONDERFUI, TELEPHONE." PART n.— ''Mixed Pickles." Select from our Monologues, Sketches, etc., for this Olio. To terminate the bill " The Cake- Walk," "A Pleasant Evening," or "III Treated Trovatore," will be found very effective, as they can be played by ladies or gentlemen. (See Sections VIII.. IX. and X.) 32 Thb Witmark Minstrbl Guidb. Thb Witmark MiNsnutL Guidb. ^OUR BOYS IN CAMR^ A MILITARY FIRST PART. Scene represents an encampment on the banks of a river, or use a bright landscape. An effect can be gained by not using the raisc^ platforms, thus showing a number of tents painted on the scene ; plenty of guns stacked, drums, campfire, etc., to give it a realistic effect (See page illustration.) The Middleman is the Colonel commanding ; the Staff Officers are represented by the vocalists ; the End Men are the Rough Riders. The entire First Part can be in white face, except the End Men, and all should be in military uniform. Orchestra. ooooooooooooo Gans sucked. Extras. Middleman. Extras. Cans Stackeu. zzzz ooo o ooo zzzz OflBccrs. Major. Colonel. Major. officers. o o o o o ooo o o o o o Hongh Riders.— Bones. Rough Riders.— Tambos. o o o o PROGRAMME.-PART L OVERTURE AND OPENING CHORUS— "Off to Camp," Our Boys N. B.— Baton jiiggrling can be introduced here, if one of the Company is proficient in that direction. ^Coon War Song—** Lazy Bill," Rastus Hash \ Ballad— ** Sing^ Me a Song of the South," George Cartridge End Song— ** Hats off to theBoys Who Made Good," Soup Ferguson Bass Solo— **At the Sound of the Sunset Gun," Spencer Griflat Mock Ballad— **A Large Front Room on Broadway," Hava Shot Descriptive Song— ** Just as the Sun Went Down," Fast Retreat Ethiopian Medley— * !LWitmarkCpqn_Sonrs, " Pepper and Salt Song Novelty—** The Little Tin Soldier Army, ' * Onthe March ** Thb Darkey Cavaliers,"— Military Finale Entire Company N. B.— Stage Manager can arrange an appropriate drill for this. PART n— ''Picket Varieties.^ Select from our Monologues, Musical Act or Individual Sketches to make up this Olio. Sections VII. , VIII., IX. To conclude with the roaring Military Burlesque entitled, ••THE WAR CORRESPONDENT." See cast and full description Section IX. 34 Thb Witmakk Minstrel Guide. The Witmark Minstrel Guide. 3$ 'OUR GIRL GRADUATES/' This First Part is arranged for ladies. You can use the platforms and the diagrams for stage setting as shown in the previous First Parts. (See illustra- tion for appropriate scene. ) All wear the collegian mortar-board hats and gowns. The ladies acting as the ** End Men/' or "Terrors'* of the school, and principal can wear the same in white, or add large collars, white vests and small dress coats over their gowns. The musicians can wear the same in another color; red would make a bright effect. A very humorous Finale will be found in "Girls at School," as it is arranged for female minstrels, in this collection. The Shadow Pantomime, to terminate the performance, will be found easy for lady amateurs, and especially "funny," as it keeps the audience jessing a.^ to the identity of the performers seen in silhouette attitudes. For ladies' minstrels, would advise a piano in orchestra. Orchestra. 00000& 90 Principal. o Students. Students. 0000 0000 Bones. — ^Terrors. Terrors. — ^Tamboa. 00 00 PROGRAMME.— PART L OVERTURE— "The Witmark Minstrel Overture," Girl Graduate Minstrels Synopsis. — i Curtain Raiser. 2. Introductory, Bones and Tambos. 3. Opening Ensemble. 4. "Anvil Chorus" (Trovatore). 5. Waltz Song, "Mary." 6. Drinking Song. 7. "My Dainty Cigarette." 8. Sleighing Part)^. 9. Whistling and Himiming Interlude. 10. Coon Refrain. 11. Finale. Ballad — "Always," Miss Vassar \ Southern Lullaby—" Honey Little Black Boy Dan," . . . Miss WUdy Song and Refrain— "Open Your Mouth and Shut Your Eyes," . Miss Normal -> End Song— * * I Won ' t Play. Secoiid-Fiddle^tQJio_ Yaller Ga l, ' ' . Miss Noisey Waltz Song— "Only a Dream," Miss Student Comic March Song— "Cinderella," . . ... Miss Shouter Contralto Solo — "Just as the Tide Went Out," . . Miss Lowvoice *^ SwenjIoonSgng, in trodu cing_Cak£JVV-alkr^* My JHigh Stefjping Lady," Misses Picture and Pose Song- "The Turn of the Road," Miss Solemnity Oriental Novelty — " Two Little Japanese Dolls," . . Miss Spouter ^, ^^^^ / a. Zenda Waltz Song, . . . \ Misses Tone, Melody yuartene— -j^ c.^^^^jjjy,, .... / and the Sisters Harmony : FINALE : "GIRLS AT SCHOOL." See Section VIIL PART II,— ''Examination Day,'' Select from our long list of timely Speeches, Sketches, Monologues, etc., to make up this Olio, closing with the Scenes in Shadowland, "Frolics in the Moon," or "The Lobsterscope." Sec Section X. 36 The WiTMARK Minstrel Guide. Th« Witmark Minstrel Guide. yjf ''UNCLE TOKPS CABIN/' Scene— Represents a c^toiL_geld2 landscape or river scene. Orchestra is composed of " field hands*' and seated on^latfoim. Directly in front of them are female cotton pickers or "shouters." Then comes the Circle in which Simon degree is the Middleman. The three ''End Men "on each side arc represented by Topsy, Marks the law\'er. and Aunt Ophelia. To I^egree's left are George St. Clair. Deacon Parrj*. The Major and Eliza. To his right are Uncle Tom, Phineas Fletcher, REnds. Ends.^ o Marks. Topsy. O ) ( O Topsy. Note.— Would suggest to give the names of the cast with the names of the participants, as is done on a regular programme of the dramatic production, viz.: CAST. (Here .subijlitute real names.) Uncle Tom Hen Johiisiion. Simon degree Chas. Hartway. St. Clair Fred. Dwight. George Harris John See. Eliza Harris Laurs King. The Major Sam Lightfo6t. Deacon Parry . '1 cm Jeftrej-*. Ca.ssie .'.... Saiali Joyce. Sambo Cal. Tompkins. Vopsys (Bones) Sally Smith. (Taniho) Matid Glenn. Marks (Bone.s) Joe Jones, (Tanil <>) Jack Norman. Ophelias (Bones) Clara Brown, (TamtM)) Caddie Booth. Ivittle Eva Babv Spencer PROGRAMME.-PART I. OPENING CHORUS— " The Witmark Minstrel Overture." . . . Entire Company and Orchestra Synopsis : 1. Curtain Rais<>r. 2. Introductory— Bones and Tambos 8. Opening Ensemble. 4. Anvil Chorus (Trovatore). 5. Wallz Song ("Mary"). «. Drink- ing Song. 7. " My Dainty Cigarette." 8. Sleighing Chorus. 9. Whistling and Humming Interlude. 10. Coon Refrain. 11. Finale. V End Song— •' Home was Never I^ike This," Marks Jones ■* Ballad— '^The Girl I l,eft in Dixie Waits for Me," St, Clair Comic Song— " Miss Cadenza Brown," Ophelia Booth Bass Solo— " Laugh and the World l,auKhs With You," Uncle Tom ^ Coon Song— " Who Dat Say Chicken in DLs Crowd?" Topsy Smith Introduction of Uttle Eva. Song—" My Sunday Dolly," Little Eva Mock Ballad— "Honest John Tones." Marks Norman Waltz Ballad— " She is so Good to the Old Folks," Phineas Fletcher Serio-ComicSong—" Just Suppose." Ophelia Brown Song— "Paint Me a Picture of the Old Fireside," Kliza Harris Humorous Ditty— " Best Drejssed Gal in Town." Topsy Glenn Female Ensemble—" Honey Dat I Lub So Well," Cotton Pickers Finale—" Cake- Walk in the Sky," Company A short finale can eflFectively be made of the song, "Cake- Walk in the Sky," by havin^the Tr>pityA_pirit ^^ tii*'_CLC? tto" Pickcrs are singing, don paper crowns, pin on a large -pair of paper wings each and re-enter to refrain. Others can also participate in s general cake-walk. A feature can be made by the introduction of two or four half-dr«*s»sod pickajiinjucs^ 4rho are also fixed no with wings, etc. They naturally would lead tbe caKe walk, the curtain drop- ping as the walkers exit singing. PART IL—^ Plantation Pastimes.^ As mentioned in other programmes selections can be made from the various sections to conclude with, either "The Dari^town Cake- Walk," " War Correspondent" or "Pleasaict Evening." ' :*8 The Witmark Minstrei. Guide. '^. r^ ^^fc^j»^^^^^v\.^^N;;>.Sj^ ^^N^Si^^Si^NNSi^^^Si^j^^tv ThB WlTMARK MiNSTRBL GOIDE. 39 ''CONGRESS OF ALL NATIONS.** SCBNE — Handsome interior or conservatory. Representatives of all nations are seated right and left of Uncle Sam, who acts as Middleman or Interlocutor. To Uncle Sam's left will be seen a Frenchman, Spaniard, German, Chinaman and Kaffir. These are vocalists. The end men on the left — an Irishman and a Scotchman — use tambourines. To Uncle Sam's right are "John Bull " (Rnglish- man), Russian, Turk, Esquimaux and Indian — also vocalists. The end men (Bones) are a neg^ro and a Japanese. The orchestra is seated at back. Costumes are shown in the engraving, and a huge flag with Dewey's portrait hangs over the assemblage. Orchestra. ooooooooooooo I'ncle Sam. o Englishman, o o Frenchman. Russian. o o Spaniard. Turk. o o German. Esquimaux, o o Chinaman. Indian. o o Kaffir. Japanese. o)p„^- p„,i^ (o Scotchman. Negro: o I ^"*^*- ^°'**' I o Iri.shman. PROGRAMME.— PART L OPENING ANTHEM— ** God Save America," . Entire Congress Celtic Humorosity—" The Jack Pot," Pat Serenade — '* Adios Amor," Spanish Representative Scotch Philosophy— •; The Change will Do You Good," . . Sandy Chinese Episode — " Yung Go Wap, " Jap Stirring Martial Song—" How a Man Can Die," .... John Bull Bass Song — ** Gypsy Love Song, " .... Russian Representative Barbaric Wooing Ballad — " A Cannibal King," . Kaffir Representative A Parisian Romance — "Grisette," .... French Representative Negro Love Ballad — " I Want My Hannah," Sambo r— Any of the finales can be used. A good finale to this first part would also be a medley of popular and patriotic songs. (See Directory.) At the climax all rise and wave small American flaj^s. "(Goddess of Liberty" can enter from L. or R. with large flag and stand C. Colored fire will enhance this tableau. All nations salute as curtain descends. PART n*—"^ International Fctc*^ Appropriate numbers can be culled from all the sections to make up a suitable programme for this part. A number of original tableaux and interpolations can also be added. For a concluding number either of the Shadowgraphs or " Ii.i*' Treated Trovatore " can effectively be used. 40 The Witmark Minstrel Guidb. Th« Witmark Minstrel Guide. u,\ ** SHAKESPEARIAN CARNIVAL.** All characters assume the costumes and peculiarities of Shakespeare's characters. The middleman represents " PalstafF." The singers are costumed as '* Hamlet," ** Olhello," ** Mac- beth,** "Henry the Fourth," "Shylock," "Two Gentlemen of Verona," "Richard the Third," etc. The end men are the ** Dromios" and " King's Jesters." The young amateur can gain correct ideas of these costumes from the engravings m the illustrated editions of Shakespeare. Scene represents the market-place of an ancient town. Orchestra. oooo o o ooooo Middle man— Falstaff. o Othello, o o Richard the Third. Henry the Fourth. o o Hamlet. Shylock o \ o Two Gentlemen Macbeth. o o of Verona, ^^^^g's jester.^ o} ^„^Bones. Hnds-Tambos. } <> o'""*'*" ^tSmio. CAST. (Here substitute real names.) Flalstaff Sam Kirwin Othello .• Bd. Kemble Shylock Jos. 0*Hare Hamlet Fred Donor Henry the Fourth Howard Espey Richard the Third Billee Young Macbeth Jas. Wairen Two Gentlemen of Verona Brothers Putnam Testers— (Bones) Eddie Shayne (Tambo) Bobbie Webb Dromios— (Bones) Charlie Case (Tambo) Silas Wright PROGRAMME.-PART L URE oxfwx-sis^ — ±, ^utMiii Raiser; 2, Introductory — Bones and Tamtx^*, ». vrK^i'^us au^cui- ble: 4, Anvil Chorus (Trovatore); 6, Waltz Song, "Mary"; 6, Drinking Song; 7, "My Dainty Cigarette"; 8, Sleighing Cnorus; 9, Whistling and Humming Interlude; 10, Coou Refrain; 11, Finale. Ballad— • Song of the Helmet," Macbeth Comic Ditty— " In Dear Old Ix)ndon," Jester Shayne Song—" Since That Day," Shylock Humorosity — "The Touch of a Woman's Hand," Dromio Wright Duet— "Think Once Again before We Part," Two Gentlemen of Verona End Song— "The Birds They Sang So Sweetly," Jester Webb Solo—" Forevermore,** Othello Ethiopian Effusion— *' I'm Dreaming of You, Baby," Dromio Case Finale— The Burle.«quc Operatic Scene, 11,1,-TREATED TROVATORE. Note. — In order to introduce this properly, a short front scene must be introduced so as to set the stage after clearing away the platforms. Have the sextette of singers introduce aria from "Lucia." or "Cavalena Rusticana," or aseriesof vocal medleys, then open the scene to "Ill- Treated Trovatore." CAST. Maurice, the imprisoned lover. I^enora. The Count The Sentry. Servant. Opera-struck ruffians by rest of Company. PART n.— Selected Novelties* To be selected from the various sections, as per previous programmes, or, as is often the case, the olio can be given by outside entertainers, either amateur or professional. Conclude with "The War Correspokdents." or any other after-piece, sketch, etc., that is most adaptable. THE WITMARK OVERTURE CIRCLE Synopsis:— 1, Curtain Raiser; 2, Introductory— Bones and Tambos; 8. Opening Ensem- Section U* FOR THE LADIES. GREAT care has been taken in compiling material suitable for the lad}' amateurs, also to include suggestions of great importance for them. The matter of " blacking up " is one of annoyance if not properly undertaken by the novice. It would be best for the ladies to be entirely dressed with the exception of the waists — and have some one person appointed (professional preferred;* to blacken the features of the entire circle. This will enable them to have un- soiled hands to complete their dressing. Where parties prefer to ** blacken up " themselves, some valuable suggestions relative to this can be found in the article called ** How to Black Up," in Section I. A very important item is the selecting of material, such as the coon songs, ballads, ensembles, jokes, anecdotes and recitations. The conundrums are especially adapted for lady amateurs, as they go with a better snap and vim than extended stories. The speeches, monologues and po^ms are also an important item for the comic element of a minstrel performance, the monologues and stump-speeches being especially good for the "olio." A choice collection is arranged for ladies, who can use their own judgment in selecting the subjects and topics, trving, of course, to present a variety that should be somewhat different from the other '* end men " use. This discourse to the ladies could be extended to untold lengths, but in doing so it would cause repetition. As space is too valuable for this, ** Miss Minstrel " is especially referred to Sections I., II. and III., although it will be a minstrel education for her to read every section of this work. Don't overlook the *'Z>^// 75.^ " in Section III. The following has been carefully compiled, and specially ar- ranged for the ladies. (As these gags are also related by gentlemen, a number of words and terms used by them can be modified by the ladies at their own discretion, they remembering, however, that it is essential to preserve the point of each story. ) SECTION VI. ** Eating and Drinking.** ** War Cries of our Soldiers." *' Piano Playing." •* Peculiar Wants." * I«ndy interlocutors and stage managers will find important instructions for the middle man and ^t'age manager in Section III. that are iust right for them; allowing, of co'irse, for a few changes ani modifications which they can readily make to suit their own purpo«icK. Thk Witmark Minstrel Guidb. 43 ' ' Letters in Post- office. ' ' " Where they Ought to Go." *' Ship is Like a Woman." ' * Two Black Boot-blacks. " ** How to Pronounce Tomatoes." ** Gambler's Wife." *' Coincidences of Married Life." *' Girls— Girls— Girls." "All About Cards." *' Planting Flowers." '^ About Umbrellas" ** Literary Curiosities.'* '^Reciting at a Party." SECTION VII. **The Mouse." ** Little Girl's Composition on Eggs." ** Mary's Lamb" (in Boston.) * ' Squibs and Poems. ' * ** Conundrums." *' Musical Instruments." ** Maud Muller at the Matinee." SECTION VIII. *' The Dakktown Cake Walk " contains a number of characters for ladies, and is adaptable where ladies and gentlemen both take part. *• The Telephone " can be performed by ladies, the two end men ap|>earing as telephone girls, and slight changes could be made in the dialogue, omitting " segars ' and substituting " bonnets " or * *candy" ; in fact, represent it from a feminine point of view, still retaining the " Brother in England " idea. " Our Girls at School" is written expressly for ladies, and all characters are assigned to females. SECTION IX. *' The War Correspondent " contains a female character which can be played by a lady in a mixed performance. **A Pleasant Even- ing ' ' affords chances to introduce several extra ladies at beginning to ask for ' * rooms ' ' and be assigned to them. There is also a good part for lady in a mixed performance of this skit by ladies and gentlemen. ** II Trovatore " contains a female part, Lenora^ which can be played and sung by a lady in a mixed performance. SECTION X. ** Shadow Pantomimes." Ladies can participate in a mixed per- formance of these pantomimes, as there are numerous female charac- ters in them. Section UL :_ J END GAGS AND CROSS-FIRES- THE TWO BLACK BOOT-BLACKS. (To be recited without hesitation.) One day a black boot-black sat in the chair of another black boot-black, to have his boots blacked by the black boot-black The black boot-black started to black the black boots of the black boot-black, and when he had one boot blacked of the black boot-black, the black bootblack who had his boot blacked hy his fellow black boot-black said: ** I merely sat in your chair for a joke." This en- raged the black boot-black who had blacked the one boot of the black boot-black; and a few words passed between them. The black boot-black, who had his black boot blacked by the black boot-black, booted the black boot-black, with the very boot the black boot-black had blacked. The other black boot-black then blacked the black boot- black's eye and the black boot-black, who had his black boots blacked by the other black boot-black, just looked black, and this is the blackest lie that ever happened. PECULIAR WANTS. End— Have you seen our new paper? It's called the " Weekly Scandalizer. " In politics, "we're on the fence." You ought to see the advertisements in the want column. No other city on earth would want such crazy things. M D >i.K - Let me hear some of your wants. End — (Opens paper and reads.) Wanted— A barber to shave the /lur of the earth, A bed for a tick of a clock. A timekeeper for a mill race, A sure cure for 2ipij^''s stye. A carpenter to put a roof on a zvater shed. A charter for a snozv bank. Agents to handle the spice of life. Some one to spin a mountain top. A tonsorial artist to shampoo the heail of a rii*er. A detective to unravel 9^ grass plot. A doctor to cure a window pain. An audience to see a horse fly A nurse maid to rock the cradle of the deep. A key to Kfire lock, A comb for a tozv head, A singer who can reach the high seas, A man to find traces of a lost harness, A lawyer to try a ivatch case. A tailor to take the measure of a suit for libel. A sign language for a dumb waiter. Some use for a dog* s pants A pair of handcuffs for procrastination, the thief of tim€, A hand to go with an arm of the sea. A necklace for a neck of land. TftE WiTMARK Minstrel Guide. 45 Some buttons for a coat of paint. A pump for a well spring of infomiatioft, A commander to take charge of a courtship. A machine to thrash wild oats. A harness-maker to build a harness for a night mare. A thousand skippers to take charge of a head of cheese. And wanted, "A girl to cook," oh! the cannibals. But here's the daisy: ** Two old maids want washing.'* 7//r« the hose on them, quick / ABOUT OUR FIREMKN. End — Our firemen are great fellows and are not afraid of anything, are they? They're not afraid of being ** roasted.'^ MiDDLB — No, sir ; where danger is thickest you'll find the noble firemen. End— Too bad about Bill Gluckerson, wasn't it? He was a fireman and was in that boiler explosion. He was scalded to death. I wrote his epitaph. Mid — You did ? What was it ? End — I put on his monument, *' To our ^steamed friend .'" Then there was Tom Ladders; he was a fireman, and when he died I wrote an epitaph for his monument. I put on it, ** Gone to his last fire.* ^ That was quite a severe fire we had three weeks ago, wasn't it? A musician who lived next door to us lost his violin in the fire. Mid— Did he? End— Yes ; none of the firemen could plav on it f Girls love a fireman, don't they? Mid — I dare say they do, for their bravery. End — Yes, indeed, they can spark most any girl ! Do you remember Mollie Cinders ? Mid — Yes. END^She's an o\6.fiame of mine. Mid— You don't say so. End— Yes, but her father smoked me out. He actuallv turned the hose on me. He made it very hot for me. He was a great reader of novels. Are you familiar with the popular writers, past and present? Mid — Oh, yes, I'm quite a reader myself End — What names of writers would you use to express your opinion on seeing a big fire ? Mid — I really cannot mention them. End— Why ! you'd exclaim '* Dickens" "Howett" "Bums!" This city ought to be reprimanded. Our firemen try to be temperance men and to shun strong drink, but this city will eventually make drunken Indians of every fireman. Mid— And why will it? End — Because the city furnishes them with plenty olfire water. ALL ABOUT DOGS. Middle — By the way, what is your brother doing at present ? End — Oh, he's doing a corking good business. He's working in a bottling establishment and he's corking bottles. He fell in love with the cruelest girl in the city. When she refused him and he said he couldn't live without her, she handed him the card of the undertaker she is engaged to. Wasn't that mean ? Mid — Say, while I remember it, you sold me a bird dog You swindled me. I went out gunning, took that bird dog with me and he wouldn't touch a bird. End — I forgot to tell you, you've got to cook the birds for him. Mid — Now, speaking of dogs — End— How's your brother? Mid — Never mind my brother. I am about to make a present of a do^ *.o a friend of mine, but don't know what breed or style of dog to give him. 46 Thk WiTMARK Minstrel Guidk. End— That's easy ; I can tell you Just the kind of dog if I know his business. There are dogs to suit all trades. For instance, a man who follows the races and gives you tips ought to have a Pointer. A man who is instructing a base baU team, a '^oach dog. See how easy it is ! Mil —What kind of a dog would you give a detective? End — Spotted Dog. Mid— A balloonist? End — Skye Terrier. Mid — A Prohibitionist? End — A Water Spaniel. Mid— Butcher? End — A Bloodhound ^ or any old sausage dog ! Mid — A person who is learning to sing ? End— A Yeller Dog. Mid — A lazy man ? End— A Setter. Mid — Colored people ? End — Black and jans, ^ Mid — Irishman making mistakes ? 1^VT>—Bull Dog. Mid — Young lady who sits on her admirer's knees? End — Lap dog. Mid— Dudes ? End — Poodles and puppies. Mid — Old colored man ? End — Coon dog. if Mid — Tobacco chewers ? End— ^V^r. Mid — A dog for me and to match my nose? End— An ugly Pug. BICYCLE RIDERS' ALPHABET. End — There's been all kinds of alphabets, but up to the present time ther have ignored Us completely. Middle — Us? Whom do you mean ? End — We bike riders ! I've composed a bike riders' alphabet, and I'll just throw it at you. A is the Amateur learning to ride. B is the Bicycle he gels as*ride. C is the Cropper he takes with a thud. D is the Ditch where lie lands in the mud. E is the Knergy he does display. F is the Fall he gets right away. G is the Gearing he talks right along. 11 is the Help that he needs to "get on." I is the Injury he will receive. J is for Junktnan who laughs in his sleeve. K is for Kicking he does with his might. L is the Lamp he forgot to light. M is for Mash. Can I by you ride? N is for Xit that she quickly replied. O is for ihve that you owe on > our bike. P is for Puncture. Walk home on the pike. Q is for Question. How did you do it ? R is Remark of the friend that "he knew it." S is for Scorcher you thought to admire. T is the Tack that "busted " your tire. U is for ^' Uncertainty^^ on all thoroughfares. The Witmark Minstrei. Guide. 47 V is the *' K" that you pay for repairs. W is the Wheel that you chop with an axe. X is the ^^Xtra '* blow when dealing the whacks. Y is the youth who advised you to *' bike." Z is the Zip with which his jaw you do strike. Then vou go to bed And you lay like one dead, And for nearly six months ** You've got wheels in your head.' ABOUT UMBRELLAS. End — I lost a beautiful silk umbrella yesterday. MiDDi^K — Did you leave it anywhere ? End — No, the man that owned it came along and took it out of mv hand. I hear that they are going to make square umbrellas. Mid — I'mbrellas in square shape. What is that for? End — So you won't leave them round. Did you ever notice how people carry umbrellas? Of course, you've heard of the handkerchief flirtation. Well, umbrellas tell the story of the people who carry them. Mid — Give me a simil6. End — For instance, if you see a man with an imibrella, and he's very careful of it, keeps his eye on it all the time ; that's a sign he's just acquired it and is afraid of losing it himself. If you see a couple going along the street, and he carries the umbrella in such a way that she is thoroughly protected and he gets all the rain down his neck and over his new clothes ; that's a sign that they are coiuling. They're in love ! Mid — Yes? End — .A.nd if he carries the umbrella so she gets soaking wet, and the um- brella covers him; why, they're married. Mid — Suppose it isn't his wife? End — Then I'll bet ten dollars it's his inoiher-in4aw. GIRLS ! GIRUS ! GTRI.S ! Knd — My brother has a matrimonial agency ! Come around if you want to get married. He'll pick out a good wife for yoii. Middijc — Thank you. I'm afraid he could not select a wife to suit me. I'^ND — He's got all kinds. He can tell you just what they are and how good they are by their names. Mid — By their names only ? Hnd— Ves, their characters and dispositions. For instance : A good girl to have, Sal J'afiott. A disagreeable girl, Annie Mosily, A fighting girl, I lit tic Maj^inu. A sweet girl, Carrie ."If el. A ver>' pleasant girl, Jennie A^osity. Mid — How about a stylish girl? End — Why, /:7/r7 6V1;//. A musical girl, Sarah Nade, A lively girl, Annie Nation. A clear case of girl, /i. Lucy Date. A seedy girl, Cora Ander, A clinging girl, Jessie Mine. A serene girl, J/ollie fy. Mid — A warlike girl? End — Mi Hie Tary ! Mid —The best girl of all ? Knd — Your own girl, of course. Mid— I've got you ; a great big fat girl? End— (Laughs.) Ella Phant. 48 Thk Witmark Minstrbi, Guidk. REaXING AT THE PARTY. Bones — Didn't I see you at the ^rty last nijs^ht ? MiDDi«K — I was very much in evidence. Did you hear me recite and did you hear the applause ? Bones — No ; I heard them inquiring after some overcoats and umbrellas. Mid — Ah, sir I I covered myself with glory. Bones — That's better than that old bSi-quilt that you've been wearing so long. What did you recite anyway ? Mii>— Oh, several choice morceaux. Bones — More sof You looked how-cotneyou-so when I saw you under the table. Mid — ^I recited " Sheridan s Ride/* and then that poem so dear to the heart of the children, " The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck." {Rises dramatically and begins,) The boy stood on the burnings deck Whence all but him had fled. Bones — Sit down; you make me sick. That's a back number. Next time vou recite it, get up UlLethisJj^ses grotesquely) and here's the up-to-date version of it. \ " The boy stood In the farmer's field, And ate with great dispatch Of all the sturdy vine did yield Within that melon patch. Yes, beautiful and bright he stood, With colic yet unknown ; Yet soon the hills and dusky wood Did echo back his groan. He still ate on— he would not go Without just one more bite, Although he felt queer panes below His waistband growing tight. Then came a groan like thunder sound— The boy— oh, where is he ? I^ook there, ujpon the torn-up ground His squirming form you see. Into his bed they laid him quick. This howling colicky lad. And though he suffered good and thick-^ //e was walloped by his dad. THE GAMBI^ER'S LIFE. MiDDi«E — Do you know John Euchre ? End — Do you mean John Euchre, the gambler ? Mid — Yes ; the poor fellow died yesterday, and I want you to compose some- thing appropriate. Take your time about it. End — I can give it to you right now. I don't have to study it over. I^et's see— John Euchre, gambler. Here you are : A gambler's life is easily explained . First, he tries to go it alone. He's a trump if he's on the square. He cuts 2, good deal with Q.pack of friends and often calls on everybody to raise money, princi- pally from his antey or sees his uncle. He*s often at the clubSy wears diamonds and plays for hearts. Finally he lays down his hand and allows a spade to turn him down in they?«5A of life. If he has been straight he wins the g^fne^ though it may be his last shuffle. He's got to cash in his chips ^ for the bluff is over and he's euchred at last. THE WAR CRIES OF OUR SOLDIERS. End— The war is over and we have proven that we are a great nation. Our soldiers would rather fight than eat. Why, we had gallant boys of all trades and occupations in the army. The bone and sinew of our land — carpenters, bakers, shoemakers and all mechanics — dropped their tools and forsook their workshops to go and fight for Uncle Sam. You ought to have heard how the different me- The Witmark Minstrel Guide. 4f chanics would shout a war-cry peculiar to their occupations. The colonels would say: "Attention, carpenters,*' or * 'Shoemakers to the front," or "Forward, bakers, to the battle.'* Then you'd hear the war cries of the different trades, what they*i shout as they went for the foe. MiDDi^K — What would the carpenters shout ? End — Go for them with a cold chisel, shave ^em and nail ^em ! Mid— Tailors? End — Go and baste *em, boys, baste 'em. Rip ^em right and left. Mid— Blacksmiths ? End — Let them have it red-hot and hammer the life out of them. Mid — Barbers? End — Barbers ! Now for a good brush and a close shave, lather *em, hays, lather ^em. Mid — Lawyers ? End— .S>fe/;/ ^em^ skin 'em. Mid— Bakers ? End —Dough (Do> 'em up quick and bake *em to a crisp. They knead it ! Mid— Bill Posters? Knd— Stick 'em on a wall ! Mid— Doctors ? End — Charge them, charge them\ make *em stick their tongues out ! MiD-r^hoemakers ? End— Welt 'em, boys, peg away at *em. Wax the life out of 'em. Don't let a sole escape. Mid— Suppose that old maids were in the armv, which war-cry would suit them ? End — Let us at them ! Let us at them before they escape ! PLANTING FLOWERS. IvND^Come and see me some day. I've got a hot-hou.se. I'm raising flowers, but I don't use seed ; I just plant any old thing and up it comes in the shape of flowers or weeds. I plant anything. MiDDi^K — I'll take you at your word. If you plant a calf, what will spring up ? End -A cozvs-lip. Mid — A dancer? End- Columbine. Mid - A poetess ? 'End— Blue bell. Mid— A watch ? End— Thyme. Mid — A crowd ? End— Why, rushes. Mid — A puppy ? End — Dog rose. Mid— Suppose you plant a bee? End — Honeysuckles ; that's easy. Mid— A chum? End — Butter j:ups A lover— why, heart's ease. l*lant a boy, you get bachelor's buttotis. A girl, ladies' ribbons! Mid — A fox? End— Why,yt?.v^/(?rv, of course. Mid — A baby? U^jy^ Mignonette. Your toes, capers. A copper cent, penny royal, A s«a fish, crab^pple. Mid — Suppose you planted me, what would come up ? End — Drunken sailor, full of blossoms. Mid — Suppose you planted yourself, what would spring up? End — Daisies ; you bet 1 always throw bouquets at myself. 50 Thk Witmark Minstrki. Guide. PIANO PLAYING. - Middies — Passing your hou?e the other night, I heard some one pla3ring the piano. End— Oh, yes, we all play the piano. We're all fond of music at our house. I love music I could live on music. That is, with a good dinner in addition. I love all the popular songs : ** She made pretzels in Pennsyltucky,'* " Way down on the Swanee For Ever," "Don't you remember the Locksmith, Ben Bolt," and •* Only One Girl Making Tea.*' Oh, I love music ! Mid— But you've got the titles of the songs badly mixed. You must be fond of harmony. End — ^Yes; hominy and molasses. Mid — Do you play the piano well ? Und — I'm just an ordinary player. A plunketty plunk kind of a pianist- Mi D — I love the piano, as I am a great pianist myself . End— You don't tell me. Mid — I've been complimented by the great Gottschal!.. End — Oh, you've .^o/ to use chalk have you ? So you play billiards? Mid— No, no ; the piano. The fjreat Paderewski came out of his way to compliment me. End— You must be wonderful. Mid — I possess a peculiar gift . I'^or instance. I may not be able to hear a sound of the piano, yet, if I can see the fingers of the player nmning over the key- board, I can tell exactly the tune he or she is playing. End — What's that ? Do you mean to say that ifl had a piano in front of me and you couldn't hear a note, you could tell which tune I'm playing ? Mid — Yes; ifl can see your fingers, I needn't hear the instrument, be it imagi- nary or real, to know the exact tune you are playing. "End — I don't believe it. I'll wager you an oyster supper you can't do it. Mid — What kind of an oyster supper? End — Six large oysters for ten cents. Mid — Make it oysters for everybody. End — All right; oysters for everybody, one a piece. Now, then, you'll tc'l me what I'm playing. Mid — Where's your piano ? End — You said an imaginary piano ! Mid — All right, if I said so ; go ahead and I'll tell you what you are p]ayin:; End — ^Begins in pantomine an imitation of fixing piano stool and fingers im- aginary key board daintily.) Watch this plunk hand. (Works left hand rapidly as if playing. \ There, what was that ? Mid — That was very simple. That is a sonata in B flat by Giacomo Botossinni. (End looks astonished at auoience and circle. ) I^ND — Yes, that's it. Now I'll give you a hard one. (Very grotesque move- ments under the piano, punching keys, then cross-hand movements until climax. There ! What was that ? Mid — I'm so glad you played that for me. It's an old song I haven't heard for ten years, called ' ' f'nder the Willows She's Sleeping. ' ' ( ICnd very astonished, rolls eyes, gazes around, ad lib.) End — Yes. (Gasps.) That's it. Now I'll give you some opera. (Very funny movements, jumping up and down in .seat. Both hands far apart and wind up exhausted.) What's that? Mid — The easiest thing you've yet played. That's "Home, Sweet Home," with variations. End — (Verj' astonished.) Yes, that's it. Say, that's a trick. I can do it myself. Bet you some more oysters. Go on and play and I'll tell you what you're playing. Mid — (Winks to group.) All right; you'll tell me what I'm playing, will you? Now watch me. (Makes a dash with hands and humming sound with lips.) End — That piano wants tuning. What are vou doing ? Twisting pretzels? Got a fit? Th:? Witmakk Minstrel Guide. 51 Mid— ^ Concludes. ) What was I playing ? End — ^That's easy. That's "Home, Sweet Home on a Vacation." Mid — With variations ! (Winks.) Yes, that's it. Now watch me. (Wild movements and sound with lips as of up and down scale, cross hands. ) Now ! What was I playing? End — I'm glad you played that for me. It's an old song I haven't heard for twenty years. "Under the Pillows They're Creeping." Mid — You mean "Under the Willows She's Sleeping." (Winks.) You're right; that's it. End — I can tell it every time. Play some more. Mid — Now comes the test. Watch me. ( Rises, plays wildly in the air. Right and left like a maniac, all alarmed, shouts three times at intervals, and each time louder.) What am I playing now ? ( End is laughing.) End — (After third time. ) } ou* re playing the fool. Sit dozen ! ALIv ABOUT CARDS. End —When you are playing cards, you don't realize what every card means, do you ? " MiDDLS — I did not know that cards had any significance beyond their merit in the game or their face value. End— Of course not ; because you never think of these things. Now. let me tell you about the cards : England's best card is the Queen. Uncle Sam has just turned down a King^ a Spanish one. The Policeman's best card is a duh. The politician's best card is a knave. Mid — How about a society actress' card ? End — Diamonds ! Have them stolen. Mid — The grave-digger's best card? End — Spades. Mid — Lover's best cards ? End — Hearts ! Mid — A waiter's best card ? End — The tray. Mid— How about a photographer's best cards? End — Face cards of course. Wives give bad husbands the deuce. Fox hunt- ers want the whole pack. Barbers get the edges. Dancers get the shuffle. Rejected lovers get the cut. Parents of triplets get three of a kind. Merchants get the deal. Actors get the playy but butchers always get the steaks. MiD^I'll remember all that. End— And if you play, get a chimney sweep and a cornet player for partners. Mid— Why ? End — The chimney sweep will always follow soot^ and a comet p'.ayer will trumpet. THE RIVAL SAFE AGENTS. Middle — I understand you went to the ball game yesterday afternoon. You told me you wanted to go to your mo ther-in-law's funeral. End — I did want to, but she isnTcTfead yet. Mid — I would like you to be a canvassing agent for our finn. We need a bright young man to "talk up" our safes, the best in the world. End — ^Are you in the safe business? So am I. There isn't a safe made that can beat ours, so don't talk about safes around here. ^ Mid— Gentlemen, (to circle.) This young man is articulating through his chapeau. I'll just relate an incident of our safes, and you can judge of their merits. . Last Saturday before we locked the safe door, a small dog, imobserved, strayed into it and lying down, went to sleep. We closed the safe door and left the office. During the night a terrific fire broke out. The building, as yo:i remeinhcr. was totally destroyed. For twenty hours the fire raged and the s^fo Inv ' 1 1' c midst 52 The Witmakk Minstrei. Guil-e. of the flames. We finally took it out, battered and almost burned up, you may say, and ojjened the door. And what do you think ? That poor little dog crawled out of it alive, gave a glad bark and wagged its tail. The dog was saved in spite of the terrific heat around and about him. This proves that our safes can stand a red-hot condition and yet its cool interior will protect life and valuables. Now, sir, (to end man) never talk about safes again. Go hide your diminished head. (Laughs, and all join in his mirth.) Hnd— Something like that happened to us. We left the safe door open, and a rooster coming along got into it, and the clerk shut the door and lockea the com- bination, and went home. That night a tremendous fire broke out. The flames roared and roared for twenty-four hours around that safe. We thought it was melted. After the fire we took it out red-hot. Yes, sir, the safe was r^-hot We opened it with crow-bars, and when the door was opened, what do you think ? MiD—I know just what you are going to say (laughs. ) The door was opened and the little rooster stepped out, flapped his wings and crowed. (Laughs, and all join in the mirth.) End — No, sir. There lay the little rooster in one comer of the ^ai^, frozen stiff. A SHIP IS LIKE A WOMAN. End —Did you know that I was one of the very first volunteers that went off to Cuba ? MiDDi,E— Army or Navy ? End -Navy. I didn't want any of that army beef. Mid — Were you on a gun-boat or a man-of-war ? End — I was on a woman of war ! Mid — You mean man-of-war. End — I mean woman of zvar. Now, suppose ^ou saw a vessel approaching, decorated with flags, how would you express admiration ? Mid — I should say she was a magnificent craft. End — There you are. How can a she be a he} Therefore it must be a woman of war. Now a ship is just like a woman, for she has bows and a waist. It takes a man to manage her A ship is like a woman, for it brings news from abroad. She always makes up to a pier. She runs after a smack, she's ridiculous when in company ot small buoys. She's sometimes in company with a man- of-zvar. And last of all, a woman is like a ship because the rigging costs more than the hull. HOW TO PRONOUNCE TOMATOES. End — Say, you're smart. You know everything, or rather you think you do. You've always got your nose into everybody's affairs. Now, let me ask you a question. MiDDi.E—Certainly ; I'll reply if I can. What is your question ? End— How do you pronounce T-O-M-A-T-O-E-S? (Spells.) Mid — Why tomatoes, of course. End — You don't know much about it. Now I sat at a dinner table and every- body asked for them but pronounced it differently. I'll relate it to you in poetry, and please pay attention to the accent on the word in dispute. Here she goes : Some people pass you Mash^ potatoes, And then ask if you Like to-ma-ioes. And who, when dining. Make no barters. Say : "Are you fond of Raw to-mar-ters f " Thb Witmark Minstrel Guide. 53 And some who dine where There some hate is, Say : "Oh ! do take some Stewed tHm-mate-is. * * And some who dine where There no lettuce is, Often ask for: *'More iu-metttice-is ! " And some who no more Than a mummy knows, Pass their plates for : *'Some more iummy-ioes,'* Kow, you see, you don't know much about tomatoes ; so I can't expect you to ketchup. In the Bowery it's: '* Say ! Pass dem Toe A fats / " WHERE THEY OUGHT TO GO. End — I'm in a great business at last. You know that everybody wants to go to a watering place, sea shore, resort, mountains or elsewhere, for recreation or a vacation. So I'm the party that sends them where they want to go. I pick out places for them according to who they are, what they are or may be hereafter. MiDDi«E — I don't quite catch your meaning. End — Everybody according to his trade or condition in life must have a place suitable to it. Don't you catch on ? Now ask me where certain people ought to go and I'll tell you without hesitating, for I've made it a study. Mid — Very well. Where should poiUtry dealers spend their vacations ? %TXii— Egg Harbor ! That's easy ! MiD^Bike riders? Eni>— Wheeling ! Mid — Surgeons ? End — Lansing ! Mid — Cowards ? End — Cape Fear! You're a cinch for me. MiD^People who bet, but never win ? End — Luzon ! (Lose on.) Mid — Gluttons ? End — Samoa f (Some more.) Mid — Dudes? End— ►ShV/v Islands I Mid— Lovers who eat almonds on a wager ? V^TSfD— Philippine Islands I Mid — Those fond of singing birds ? End — Canary Islands I Oh ! you can't get me off my perch. Mid — Segar smokers? End — Havana ! Mid— Thirsty people ? l^Tiiiy— Brandy wine River and Buttermilk Falls ! Mid — Colored people? Eni>- Cooney Island I Mid— School masters? Buny—Long Branch I Mid— Crying babies ? End — Lapland I Mm— Hunerjr oeople? ^vrD-SarMztncn Islands ! Mm— Old Maids? End— (Laughs.) The Isle of Man ! And they can't get there quick enough T 54 The WlTMAKK AllNSTREL GUIDK. EATING AND DRINKING. Knd — I was eating ray dinner to-day and a very funny idea came to me. I couldn't help but laugh at it ( Laughs heartily). When you hear it you'll laugh to. MiDDi«E — Well, what is it ? End — I was wondering what it is that separates the food from the liquid when a person is eating and drinking at the same time. Mid— That's easily explained. It's very simple, indeed. You must under- stand that right here (pointing to throat) in the esophagus. End— In the what a ^us f Mid — Esophagus, or thorax ; the upper part of the throat in which are two tubes. End — Two wash tubs ? Mid — (Annoyed) — Two little tubes or pipes. End — Oh, I see; two tubs in the gas pipes. Mid— Two pipes, and at the apex of these pipes— End — Oh, I see, 8 pecks, 2 bushels of pipes. Mid — (Earnestly and interested — .At the summit, just where it enters the eppiglotis, is a little valve or clapper It's action is automatic Now, when a person is eating, the little clapper falls over and closes the drinking tube, and when a person is drinking the little clapper falls over the way and closes the eating pipe, and vice versa. (Shows action with hands while describing a valve closing, etc.) End— That's simple. Now let me see if I could explain that to somebody. Right here in the borax are \Mvogas pipes, with the apple dumpling on the eight pecks. Then there's a little clapper full of rheumatics W^hen the little clapper falls over, it closes th^ restaurant. M 1 1) — ( Explains ) . The eating tube. Knd— Ann when a person is eating, the little clapper falls over and shuts up the drinking saloon I Mid — Closes the drinking pipe. End— (Laughs, as with hands, he imitates the little clapper, moving R. and L. like a flapper ) Mid— What are you laughing at? Knd— I'm laughing at that little clapper. Mid— What about the little clapper ? End— I'm laughing to think what a busy time that little clapper will have when you're eating mush and milk I (Quick action of hand as you reach climax of speech and laughing. 1 ALL ABOUT CATS. End — There's something that puzzles me. Why does a cat, falling, always alight on its feet ? Mii>— Now a cat always falls upon its feet because the claws — 1i)nd — Now look here. No claws in the constitution about it. Drop the cat. How do 3'ou know it's always light on its feet ? The Witmark Minstrei, Guide. 55 Mid— Let me explain . Now a cat — End — Well, whose cat are you talking about and where is it, in your yard or on the fence ? Mid— I say when a cat falls — End— I'm not talking about cat falls or cat fish. So don*t get your back up like a cat. If you can't explain it, just say so and don't meow about it all night. (Angry) Shut up, don't talk back to me. If you don't know why a catwalks easy along the fence and you can't hear it coming along, why, say so. But don't show your ignorance. Mid— Oh, that's your question, is it? Well, a cat walks softly and unheard because its paws are a sort of cushion, soft as velvet, which contract as the feline approaches cautiously, and it treads upon these cushions of the paw, especially if approaching its prey. End— Oh, bosh! That isn't what makes it walk soft. Mid— What is it then ? 'Evj>—'Rais ! I.ETTERS IN THE POST OFFICE. End — ^I thought I saw you out at the baseball game. They've got a new pitcher. His name is Dice ; but they found Dice hard to rattle. Mid — What is your brother doing at present ? End — Getting rich by collecting hush money from every family in town. Mid — Hush money! End— Yes; he manufactures soothinji^ syrup. All of our family are smart. If they wanted to find out anything they'd come to us If anything was lost they'd always come to our house to find it. We know everything and everybody. Did you know that everybody resembles a letter in the post office? Everybody — men, women and children — are letters, especially the ladies. Mid— What kind of a letter is a married lady ? End— She's a letter that has reached its destination. Mid— What kind of a letter is a young lady ? End — She's a letter that hasn't l)cen sent yet. Mid— What kind of letters are babies ? End — ^They're merely little postal cards. Mid — What kind of a letter is a fat lady ? End — She's overweight and collect postage. Mid — What kind of a letter is an undertoker ? End — He has charge of the dead letters only. Mid— What kind of letters are old maids ? End— Letters that have been overlooked in the General Delivery. LITERARY CURIOSITIES. CROSS- FIRK. Bones — I saw a thing to-day that proves how smart women are when they wish to be. This woman ran to the depot and was just five minutes late. What did she do? She turned around and grabbed her dress and caught the train, Tambo — Have you heard the new march — The Baby Coach March ? Middi«£ — No; how does it go ? Tambo— ^« wheels ! Say \ Do you believe in the present war tax ? Mid — Certainly. The Government needs the tax. There's a tax on every- thing. Tambo — You're right. When I put on my shoes this morning I had to stamp my feet. i BONBS — ^You're so smart, I'm going to let you know how smart I am. I can tell you just how much water runs over Niagara Falls to the quart. Mid — ^You can ? Well, how much water goes over Niagara Falls to the quart ? The \Cxtmark Mij^strel Guide. Bones — ^Two pints to the quart— always. Tambo— Say, did you know Bill Blue? Mid— I've heard of him. Tambo — He's a poet and don't know it. You know Bill Blue is an engineer, •ut West, on a freight train, and his pet engine is number two. One night he had an accident. One of the flues in the boiler of his pet engine blew out and he was stalled, blocking the main line. He reported the matter to the division superintendent, unwittingly as follows : Bngine Two blew out a flue, What'll I do?— Bill Blue. Then he sat down to await instructions. This is what came over the wires from the superintendent's office twenty minutes later : Bill Blue : You plug that flue In Bngine Two, and pull her through In time to get out of the way of twenty-two, Or I'll send you to Kalamazoo, Doo, Doo ! my huckleberry, Doo. Mid — That's nice for railroad poetr>', and a curiosity in the way of literature. BoNBS — Hold on ! If you want curiosities in poetry, let me tell you what I have seen. I've seen the rope-walk down the lane. The sheeb-run in the vale : I've seen the dog-watch on the ship, The cow-slip ux the dale ; I've seen the sea-foam at the mouth, The horse-fly in the air ; I know the oul-warks on the deck, And the J! re-works many a scare ; I've .-^een a-bun-dance on the plate. A lamp-light on the floor ; I've seen the catfish in the sea. And a hat-stand by the door ; I've seen the mtll-race in the glen, The heart- burn in the breast ; I've seen a door-step on the street, And a watch'Sprxng in my vest. HOW I LOVE HER. A SHORT " END " MONOLOGUE. You've often heard the expression, " ; love you." That's aV very well, but how do you love her? when do you love her? and how much do you love her.? I admit that I'm crazy, but there are others as foolish as I am. When a young man is in love, his mind is turned to poetry. This is a sure sign that you are get- ting daffy. But I'll tell you when I love her and how viuch I love her Now, please don't laugh at me. If there are any other love-struck people in the audi- ence, besides myself, I hope they'll go out while I recite this : Oh, I love her when it's morning, and I love her when it's noon, I love her in the evening, 'neath the radiance of the moon; I love her when she's singing, and I love her when she sleeps; I love her wh'»n she's laughing, and I love her when she weeps; I love her w'.i^^ she's driving and I love her when she walks, I love her when she's silent, and I love her when she talks; I love her every attitude, I love her lightest whims, I love her when she's biking, and I love her when she swims; I love her when she's rom|>ing with her merry girlish mates, I love her when she's dancing, and I love her wnile she skates; I love her when she's eating, and I love her when she drinks, I love her when she's sneezing, and I love her when she winks; 1 love her after onions 'round ncr lips do linger yet, For then her love is stronger than any love Pve met. The Witmark Minstrei. Guide. 57 SYNONYMOUS. CROSS-FIR^. MiDDi^B — I saw you engaged in a row yesterday. It 'was disgraceful ! Don't you think so ? BoNfiS — Yes ; I bad a fuss with a fellow and he threw an egg at me. It splashed all over my face and clothes, and, oh ! it wasn't an up-to-date egg ! It was passe/ It was a disf^raccful egg. Mid —It doesn't make any difference ; if he struck you, you should return ^ood for evil. Bones — I did ; I threw an egg at him. Mid -I mean return good for evil. BoNBS — So I did ; the egg I threw at him was a good egg. Tambo — Say ! You know a great deal. Now, what is the difference between cUso and likewise f Mid— There is no difference; they are synonymous terms. Tambo — Sell-ofi-y-mous tunes ? Mid — Webster defines synonymous as meaning one and the same thing. Bones— What's Webster got to do with it? He's too fresh saying what's right and what's wrong If I see him, I'll just tell him what I think of him. Mid — Worcester says the same thing. Tambo— Worcester's all right; he makes Worcester sauce out of sight. He's a sell-on-a nious sauce maker ! Mid — You don't understand; also means likeivise and likewise means also. Tambo — No, it does not ! Now, I'll prove it. You know Hummel, the lawyer? Mid— Certainly. Tambo— Well, he's a gentleman and also a IsLwyer^ likewise honest. , Mid — Yes. Tambo— You are also a lawyer? Mid— Yes. Tambo— But you're not likeunse ! Bones — (Interrupting.) — Sell-on-y-mous means one and the same thing, does it? Mid— Yes. Bones— What's a one-dollar bill ? Mid — A one dollar bill, of course. Bones — What's another one-dollar bill? Mid — Synonymous I Tambo — What's two things alike ? ^ID— Synonymous. Bones— What's a pair of twins t Mid — ( l^dMghs)— Synonymous. Bones and Tambo — What's one elephant and another elephant and what's one clothes-pin and another clothes-pin ? Mid — Silence ! You are a pair of fools. Bones and Tambo— (Pointing at Mid) — Synonymous ! MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS. CROSS-FIRE. MiDDi^E — Gentlemen, do you love music ? Bones— I crndd^at ihusic T Tambo— i:eo»ld4iye on music ! Mid — I am pleasedto iiote the fact, for it shows an appreciation of harmony. Bones— We can tell you all about musical instrumer-ts. Did you know there were musical instruments for everybody ? Men, womer and children in all occu- l^ations? 5S Th9 Witmark Minstr^i« Guidk. Mid- I certainly did not. Tambo— It shows you don*t know much ahout mnsic. Mip— Then tell me the suitable musical instruments for oreiybody. WhicH in'^trument should a fisherman play upon? BoNBS— The bass-oon and cast-a-net. Mid— An old maid ? Tambo— The tnan-do-lin. Mid— A man with a cold in his head? Bones— The ^«i/ar. (Catarrh.) Mid — An undertaker? Bones— The bones. Mid— A burglar ? Bones— The lute. (Loot) Mid— Cats on a wall ? Tambo — Tom Tom, Mid— Keeper of a poor hotel? Bones— That's easy. A vile-inn. (Violin.) Mid — A prize fighter ? Tambo -A music box. Mid — ^Which music is appropriate for the President? Bones — He likes a tnarch—xHi^ fourth of March, Mid— Which is a food sonsj for a barber? Tambo— (9A, comb, oh^ comb ztnth me I Mid— Niagara hackman ? Bones—** With all thy falls, I love thee still." Mid— Which is a good song for a tramp caught in the rain ? Tambo—** Wet till the clouds go by." Mid— Good song for me at my bounding house? Both—*' When you ainUgot no money, well, you neednH come *nmmiJ ** REMARKABLE BRAVERY. cross-fire. MiDDi«E — I understand you attended the banquet the other night Did you enjoy yourself ? Did you laie well ? Bones — You bet I did; I got three spoons, four napkin-rings and a sugar- bowl. I would have sttHped more if I*d had a chance. Tambo — (Interrupting, to Kddleman.)— Say ! Does your sister use face powder? Mid— She uses a little powder. I think. Tambo— A little ? She puts it on so thick that she ought to join the plaster- ers* union Oh ! what a face she has— and wrinkles ! Ugh ! They are good for the flies to hide in. Mid— I hope you will not criticise my sister's features. Bones— Her feet I Oh! (Laughs.) She*d be awful tall if there wasn*t so much of her on the ground. Feet ! Oh ! They are like a couple of trunks. Tambo — I guess she must leave her feet outside of the room when she retires at night, doesn't she ? Mid— You wouldn't believe she wears number twos ? Bones — You mean twenty-twos / Tambo— Ta'i? hundred and twenty-twos I Mid — Now, there is a brave and noble girl. I^et me relate an incident The other night a burglar entered the house and began, dark lantern in hand, to search — Bones — Foi her feet ? Why, he couldn't h€iy falling over them. Mid— (Annoyed.)— No! No! While the burglar was searching, my aiator heard him. Tambo— He stepped on her feet, and next day she felt it The Witmark Minstrbi* Guid«. 59 MxD— Oh, listen ! She heard the burglar— what did she do ? ^^icftB^^tepped on him and he died ! Mid— No; she didn't scream nor betray timidity, but ran out — Bmn—IVm those feet f Mid— (Angry.)— Yes, yes. Tambo — I don't see how she could run. BoNBS— May be somebody carried her feet in a wheelbarrow and she followed them- Mid— No ! I tell you ! I repeat she ran — Both — And tumbled over tnem. Mid— No, sir ! She ran to the comer and found a policeman — Bonks — ^Past asleep on her feet ? Mid— (Very angry)— No ! Tambo — ^Then he was inside one of her shoes ? Mid— No ! She found the policeman, brought him back to the hous^— Both— y^w/ he arrested her feet / Mid — (Rises in anger) — Shut up ! BONBS— Shut up, yourself I Thej^ weren't >o«r feet, were they? Tambo — Shut up your sister's Trilbys / Mid — (Excited. ) — ^The policeman came to the house and arrested the burglar. That's what I call bravery I Tambo — Get out I Any girl in this town could do that. Bonks — Certainly they could if they had the chance, but they couldn't ^^/ the chance. Tambo— No; she'd never get a chance. Mid— Why not? Both — She couldnH find a policeman. STUPIDITY AND SOLDIERS. CROSS-FIRK. Mn>Di«K — ^What were you doing to-day capering in the middle of the street iike a lunatic ? Bonks — ^Trying to dod^e a cross-eyed girl who was on a bike. Tambo — Say ! How did you like the shot you got to-day ? MiD^What do you mean ? Tambo — (Talking to Bones.) He tried to be fresh and he says to a young lady sing by: * 'Sissy, does your mother know you're out! " The girl says: "Oh, yes I nd she gave me a penny to buy a monkey. Are you for sale f " (Laughs. ) BoNES^^peaking of money. You know how mean he is (Referring to Mid). Well, he swallowed an old-fashioned copper cent by mistake (laughs), and the doctor made him cough up two dollars. Tambo— Show you how smart he thinks he is. (Meaning Mid.) I met him at the depot and he was chuckling to himself. I says : What pleases you ? He says : I've got the best of the railroad company this time. I've bought a return ticket and I'm not going to use it. Mid — (Angry.) Oh, gentlemen, I'm not so stupid as all that ! Bonks — ^You're worse I He's so mean that he never goes to a barber to have his hair cut. He waits until winter time and sticks his head into a bucket of water and lets his hair freeze stiff ; then he breaks it off. Tambo— -Then he got a job in a dry goods store as clerk. A lady came in and made him take down seventy bolts of silks and satins. Then she says : I don't think I'll purchase anything; I was merely looking for a friend. He says : If you think your friend is in the other bolts I'll take them down, too. But he's a chump I Bonbs — I've got to tell this one on him. He was eating his dinner at the hotel and the waiter placed a finger-bowl beside him. He looked at it, picked it up and drank half of its contents. Then he turned to me and says : That's the thinnest lemonade I ever tasted. 6o The Witmark MinstreIv Guide. Mid — (Pleadingly.) Oh, gentlemen ! Please do not hold me up to ridicule in this manner. Tambo — Oh ! You frozen piece of pie ! He went to the butcher's and asked him for ten cents worth of liver ; and he says : Don't give me any liver with hones in it, (Laughs. ) He ought to work in a livery stable ! Bones — And he. wanted to enlist in the army. The officer says : Which, branch of the service do you prefer? Army or Navy ? He says : Both. Officer says: Which regiment ? He says : Put me in the Seventh regiment. I've got a ' brother in the Sixth regiment and / want to be near him. Mid — (Stamping foot. ) All this is nonsense ! Now tell me who makes the best soldiers for Uncle Sam ? Tambo — Auburn haired soldiers, for they are always Reddy. Bones — Pawnbrokers make the best soldiers. They can send Three Balls to the enemy. No, sir; Nigger soldiers are the best of all. Mid— Why ? Bones — ^They dx^fast colors and never run. COUNTERFEIT MONEY. End — ^I'm the most unfortunate man you ever saw. I get into all kinds of trouble. I saw a friend of mine fall off a car and roll in the mud. I went to him and got a stick and commenced rubbing the mud off him, when along came a policeman and arrested me. Middle — What for ? End — Merely scraping an acquaintance. While I was in court I saw a re- markable case; a deai and dumb man was brought in, and the judge made a remarkable cure right there. Mid — What was it ? End — He ^ave the deaf man a hearing. Then a pickpocket was brought in, charged with picking pockets in a crowd . The judge fined him fifteen dollars. The pickpocket said: "Judge, all the money I've got with me is a ten-dollar bill." Tne judge says: " All right I Give me the ten dollars." Then the judge aay to the cop: * ' Officer, turn this man loose in the crowd and let him get me the other five dollars." As I was leaving court, I noticed a ten-dollar bill lying on the sidewalk. I stooped to pick it up, but it looked like a counterfeit bill, so I passed on. Mid — And the bill turned out to be a good one, of course ? End — No ; but I was arrested before I had gone a dozen steps further. Mii>— Arrested ! What for ? End — For passing counterfeit money. \. A cyci^one story. End — I went to a party last night, and we had a great cake-walk. Do you remember when cake-walks were done for the first time on the stage ? Middle — No, I do not. Do you know ? End — ^Yes; cake-walks were done for the first time on the stage in "Uncle Tom's Cabin," when Eliza crossed the river on the ice-cakes of tee. I came near being a cake myself a few weeks ago. I was caught in a hurry-up-cane. Mid — A hurricane — ^a cyclone. End — You bet I was a sick coon after it struck me. It made me see the color of the wind . Mid — ^The color of the wind ? End— Yes; it was blew. When the cyclone struck our town it changed the whole map. You remember the main street, don't you? Mid — Yes; it ran north and south. End— Well, it's east and west and all twisted up and down. Oh, how it blew I It blew the paint off of all the houses. The Witmark MinstrkIv Guide. 6r Mid— You don't say so. End— -Blew the knot-holes out of the fence. Mid — Terrible tempest 1 End — Yes ; it blew the cellar out from under the Court House. It blew the sun back three hours. Mid — You don't say so ! End— Do you remember Johnny Fitz Hugh ? He had the catarrh in hia nose ?* Mid— Yes ! (All are excited. ) End— It blew his nose! He hadn't blown it in three years. Oh ! it was an awful cyclone. It blew all the fishes out of the river, then it blew them back again. Blew open a safe, and bleiv in all the money! Do you remember Fitz Hugh's dog? A little, tall, lean kioodle dog? Well, it was running down the street with its mouth wide open and the wind blew the dog inside out and he ran the other way. ALL ABOUT LAW. End^I was coming up to the city in a railroad train, and I noticed a very lovine couple seated ahead of me, and the young lady's mother sat in the seat ahead of them. Suddenly we came to a long, dark tunnel and when we emerged the young lady looked indignant and angry. Her mother leaned over and said to her: '* Don't make such a display of temper ! Did he dare kiss you while we were in that dark tunnel ? The girl says: ** No ; he didn't! The cow^ard ! " Now, if I'd been in his place, she wouldn't have said that about me. I saw you one day last week with a lot of books under your arm. What are you. a book agent ? Middle — No, eir. Those books were law books. I'm practising cUJiebar. End — Tell me which one you practise at, and I'll go with you. Th!^y~~won't trust me at any of the bars up my way. Mid — ( Angrily. V-I mean to tell you that I am a lawyer, a criminal lawyer. Some day you may need my services, or I shall be the lawyer to cross-examine you. BvND — I don't care. I'm seldgm_out_ofjail.4n;^way. Mid — I've long wanted to-jTuFyoiTundefoathai^ q^uestion you, the same as I would were I in the Court House and had you on the witness stand. End — Well, I've got no time to be questioned. I might ^*V^ myself away. Mid— Dignified.) — I dare say! Gentlemen! (To circle.) I'll cross-examine this fellow and show you how easily I befog and tangle up a witness with as little gray matter under the skull as this representation of nothing has in his cerebel- lum ! Look at me, you miscreant ! You mustard seed in a vast, fathomless sea of nothing. End — Hold on ! I'll punch your jaw if you call me a fnustard plaster. 'I know I'm hot stuff, but don't call me that Mid— Silence ! What is your business? End — I'm a tin roofer. I've worked at it off and on^ but I've worked at it steady the past twelve years. Mid— How long, off and on, have you worked at it? End— Thirty-three years. Mid — How old are you? End— Thirty-three years old. Mid— Then you've been a tin roofer from birth ? End — No; of course I haven't. Mid — Then why do you say you've worked at the trade thirty-three years— and you are only thirty- three years old ? Come I Answer the Court. End — You asked me how long on and offl worked at it. I have worked at it off and on for thirty-three years. Fifteen years on and eighteen years off. Fifteen and eighteen are thirty-three! What kind of a lawyer are you, anyway? Smoke up! Mid— I'll smoke you up before I'm through with you. You remember seeing Farmer Jones struck by Farmer Benson ? 62 Thb Witmark Minstrel Guidb. ^ND— I do. I was the principal witness. I was the whole case. Mid — How far were you from Benson when he struck Jones? End — Oh ! I can tell that easy enough. Mid— (Enthusiastically.) — I*vegotyou where I want you. Remember that you are under oath. How far were you from Benson when he struck Jones ? The lawyer hssgotyou at last / Ha ! ha ! End — (Thoughtfully. ) — ^Three yards, two feet and four inches and a half ! Mid — ^Why are you so particular about the distance to the half inch ? End— Because I thought some fool of a thick-headed lawyer would ask me I GLADIATOR, End— Courting is nice, isn't it ? MiDDi^E— Yes, sir. Love's young dream is the Elysian fields through which we hand in hand wander in dreamland, beside purling brooks and — End — Break away ! Don't get foolish too quick. We know you're crazy, but don't tell everybody. There's one thing certain — ^the girls are diplomatic and no relation to George Washington. Mid— What do you mean ? End— I mean to say that they'll get you on a string if they can When I was first courting I had proof of it. I called on her and went into the dark parlor and she jumped up, ran into my arms, and said: '* Oh ! Charley, I'm so glad you called." I says to her: *'My name is not Charley; my name is George, '^^ She said: ^* Excuse me^ I thought this was Wednesday night." She got her dates mixed. I guess I got in on Charley's night ; but it just goes to show how they string us along. Mid— Ah, sir, woman is Heaven's best gift to man. End— Yes; and she's often got to chase him to make him take the gift But man is brave and can stand all me taffy and give her lots in return. It makes him feel like 2iglad\aXox — ^happy I jolly ! Mid— (Patronizingly.) — Do you know the meaning oi gladiator t End — Certainly I do. Do you suppose I came here to show my ignorance as you do ? Mid — ^Then define the word gladiator. End — I don't have to find it; V ye got it. Mid— Well, what is it ? Come. End— I know what it is all right. Mid — ^Well, give us the definition. End — Gla<^ator is about a happy man. He goes, to sea on a ship. He has his wife and his wife's mother with him. They are on deck looking at the foamy l^illows. Suddenly a huge wave dashes over the ship and sweeps away the man's mother-in-law. He yells for help as he sees her in the water. Just then a big, ravenous shark appears, opens its jaws, swallows the happy man's mother-in- law — Mid— Well? End— (Dryly ) -He's glad he ate her ! AUTOMOBILE. End— Say, do you know Briggs ? Well, he and his family are living in a honse-boat He rented an old canal-boat and they pole it along the bank. Briggs wrote me that all they needed to make it seem like real canal life was an old, spavined, knock-kneed, flea-bitten mule — and he wants you to come up. Middle— That is a very ambiguous invitation. End — ^It's a big boat Oh, I must tell you about my mother-in-law. She fell In a well. Mid^-You don't say so. Thb ^X/itmark Minstrbi* Guidk. 63 End — And the well was so deep that I didn't hear the splash for two weeks afterwards. Some day I must take you out riding in my auto-tnO'lnU'eye. MiJ>— You ignoramus ! Go ana study up proper pronunciations before you display such lamentable ignorance in the company of scholars. Eni>— What's the matter wiUi you? Been eating boarding house hash again ? Mid — AutO'tno-bill-eye! (Laughs.) The word is derived from the French — auto-nuhbeel End— (Imitates Middle's voice) — Auto-mo-heel! You can go to Mobile or New Orleans, if you want to. I don't think anybody knows how to pronounce the word. Mid — Nonsense ! Do you think that everyone is as dense as you are ? End^I stick to my assertion ! You can pronounce the name of the new horseless wagon any way you like and be correct I can prove it for five dollars. Mid — Well, it's worth five dollars to have you make a fool of yourself. It's a bet. Go ahead and prove that each and every pronunciation of that word is correct. End — ^I'U give it to you in poetry, so that you can see that tm right and you* re wrong', Listen I Paster than ever rode Budd Doble, Speeding along in his auto-mo-bel. And he went along so nobbily. In his brand new auto-mobbtly. There he rode for many a mile In his dashing auto-mo bile. He had no need to cry ' whoa, Bill I" Riding in his auto-mo-btll. Thus he went across the lea In his swii't auto-mo-bUe. Paster sped each whirling wheel Of his flying auio-mit-beel. So, do not pick me up for a foil. About this new-fangled auto-mo-booU It's cost you five to hear mc sfty It might be called auto-mo-b/av. You bet I'm right— you hear mc sneeze^ Pronounce it am* way you please. Por on to your five I'm going to freext, A THRILLING STORY. End— Did you know that I was one of those long-haired poets and writers ? I'm worse than Laiu^ Jean Libbey ! I have great powers of description. MiDDDB — ^Then you will become a successful writer. End— You bet your life I will. I write from actual occurrences. Listen ! (Rises and reciter.) 'Twas a fearftil night; the Storm-king, out of humor, let loose the howling wind and pelting rain, and clothed the earth with darkness as dense and impenetrable as an Eg[yptian sepulchre. All instinctive life was hushed, save the tempest bird, whose shrill screams mingled with the crashing blast and made it more terrible in its mighty frenzy. 'Twas dark as midnight ; the trees moaning and sighing piteously, were rudely tossed about, and ever and anon huge masses of mutilated timber fell to the ground. Before an open window stood a beautiful girl; her glossy ringlets waved like streamers in the passing wind; het exquisite form, which bore the impress of nobleness innate, was splen- didly erect; and het flashing eyes, full of excited lustre, shone brighter still through the impenetrable darkness. Proudly she stood there, defyin^j the tempest in its wrath. See her rosy lips separate like the leaflet of the morning rose, and with one tremendous effort she screams out at the top of her voice. ( Imitates woman's voice.) /iwf, if you don't let go that pig's tait^ ma ztntl thrash you like thunder! # 64 Thk Witmark MinstrkIv Guide. NEWSPAPER REPORTER. End — I*m a newspaper reporter now. I had a job working for the railroad, bnt I gave it up. I was orakeman in a baggage room ! MiDDi^E — What are the duties of a brakesman in a baggage room? End — Breaking trunks ! After I had smashed everything in sight, I went to reporting for newspapers. Mid — Are you florid or pacific in your style of writing ? End— No; I hoist 'em with a derrick. 1*11 give you a sample of how I re- ported a sensational occurrence for our paper. Open your large ears and drink in the following peroration: (Gradually becomes agitated.) '* Yesterday was an inspiring one in our town. Fleecy clouds floated athwart a sky of amethyst. The lake was glorious in green, blue, purple and deep violet tints. The sweep of the gull was majestic. The wind that blew across the velvety lawns in the parks was exhilarating, and one standing at the edge of the clear, cool water at evening saw, if he looked toward the roseate West, a sky line that was magnificently broken and a color scheme that surpassed the most extravagant dream of the artist. Suddenly, as if the swift lightning had permeated a blackberry bush, came the cry of Fire I Huge tongues of the firey element shot into tlie agitated firmament, and the conflagration became general. I rushed into the debris of the flaming domicile and through the volumes of blinding smoke and embers, I brought them out and cried : ''Saved f saved! saved f " Mid— What? End — Two little potato-bugs, one in each hand. THE SAIIyOR'S LETTER. End — You know old Mrs. Sassafras ! Well, she*s very ignorant ; she can't read or talk United States worth a cent. Her son, John Sassafras, went as a sailor on one of our war ships cruising in foreign waters, and he wrote her this letter, telling her about a storm: *' We have been driven in the Bay of Fundy by a pam- poosa right in the teeth. It blowed great guns and it carried away the bowsprit ; a heavy sea washed overboard the binnacle and the companion . The captain lost his quadrant and could not take an observation for fifteen days. At last we arrived safe at Halifax." The old woman couldn't read, so she got me to read it over to her several times. Then she began to cry : "Oh, my poor son, poor John Sassafras!" I says: ** What's the matter? He's not lost ! " She says :* 'Thank goodness he's safe, but he has been driven into the Bay of Biscuits by a bamboozle right in the teeth. It blowed great cannons and it carried away the pulpit ; a heavy sea washed overboard the bicycle of the constitution, the captain lost his indigestion and couldn't get any salvation oil for fifteen days. At last they ar- rived at Hallelujah.'' HE SPOKE TO ME AT THE GRAVE. End — I went to Saratoga last summer, and one of the most beautiful women I ever saw .stopped at the same hotel with her invalid husband. I s'pose he came there to get well, but he didn't, for in a week or so he died. So I told my friend Brown that I was going in to win the widow. Brown is the freshest duck you ever saw. Middle — I've heard of him; a most nervy, bare- faced fellow. End — I told him I was going to trv to win her, and he says: "I'm going to try to win her myself." I was bound to get ahead of him, so the minute she returned from the funeral I didn't lose a moment. I rushed to her presence and took her hand. I knelt at her feet and said : ** Madam, excuse this seeming haste, but I cannot help it. I love you sincerely, and have loved you while your poor invalid husband was dying. I could not wait a moment, but I know that right after a funeral seems so hasty, but I love you, and here I offer you my hand and heart " "I am so sorry, but you are too late; your friend Brown spoke to me at the grave ! " Thk Witmark Minstrki* Guidb. 65 HE DIED LYING. Mid— When does a young lady go into the lumber business? When sh« ptnes for her sweetheart, who is a spruce young man with ebony face, and of whom she thinks a great deal. Now don't say that this is a chestnut, MiuDi^E— While I remember it, I wish to call you to account You told cer- tain people that I was a famous liar. End— No; I didn't say that I never made use of such an expression. I said you were an infamous liar. Speaking of liars, how*s your father? There i» the greatest old liar that ever lived. Mid — Don't dare to call my father a falsifier ! End — He's not a falsifier, he*s just a plain old liar. He*d rather lie than eat. He'd lie all the time Mid— Don't speak of him in that manner ; he's dead. End— You don't say so. What was the complaint? Mid— There zvas no complaint, H^n— Everybody tvas satisfied, 1 s'pose. Where did he die? Mid— He died in the house End— Did he die standing up ? Mid — Certainly not. He died lying ! End— //^f kept tt up to the last didnUhef THE RESTAURANT AND CUSTARD PIE. End— They have the brightest waiters in this city I ever saw. They know just what you mean when you order. Now, I went into a restaurant and called for a lobster. The waiter brought me a picture of (some local crank). A ma« Dnce called me a lobster. I took him into a restaurant and made him eat hu words. There is a restaurant in the city where they have all kinds of signs oq the walls. For instance* one sign reads : Rememoer, Heaven sees Everything^ and a sign next to it reads ; Keep your eyes on your umbrella. Then there's on«k 7rv our mince pieSy and under it, Be prepared to die. When you get a plate of ha>h. you can see a placard staring you m the face, Have'Jaith tn me; or, if you ]) -ik an egg that's antiquated, you'll see a si^n on the wall, Honor thy father .' / / > V moOiCf . That's all right if you're a chicken. And when you get a glaat Qi ini k you read a placard that seems to be about the milk, for it says : Shau tug ja il/i(ral the rtverf Then there s one that reads: Honesty is the best policy, T ley ve got that one stuck up over the cashier's desk. But there was an accident there the other day A countryman came in and ordered custard pie. T):^ colored waiter brought it to him, and the jay says : Where's the lid that goes ^9% top of tt f The waiter told him they never put a top crust on custard pie. M I dole- It was never intended for the upper crust. End — Of course not. That's why you never get any of it. When the q)4 coon told the countryman that, the jay scooped out a handful of the custard audi threw it at the old colored waiter s head, and there it stuck. (I^aughs. ) What 6 sight he was ! The landlord rushed in and seeing the waiter, he yelled out .- " 'Rastus ! get out of the dining room. Don't go 'round here with all your braifu knocked out ! " ANIMALS GOING TO THE CIRCUS. End— Are you fond of the circus, and do you like to see your ancestors, th* monkeys, climbing around and having fun ? There was a circus out our way last week, and all the animals thought they'd like to go and see the other animals with the circus. So the frog, the duck, the lamb and the pole cat, commonW called the skunk, started ♦^o visit the sa^w They were anxious to get in, so th^ hopped and waddled and trotted to the circus. The first animal the| •net w^'"* the door-tender. He says: '' Tickets or m&myl ^V-j Uadh.^ads het\ ^, ^% the frog had a ^r--I was rocked in the cradle of the deep by Davy Jones. Til give yon all the pointers you need about yachts. Mii>— But the expressions and their meanings ? End— Plain as the nose on your face, and that's pretty plain. For instance, when they weigh the anchor^ they put it on the scales^ and you can see for yourself how much it weighs^ and they can't cheat you. You must always remember that there are three Idnds of yachts — first class, second class and steerage. For in- stance, water line means where the temperance line is drawn. Load line is when the sulors get a j'ag on board I Time allowance — ^that's when you buy your yacht on instalments. Sex of vessels : all yachts and ships are called she, except mail steamers ; don't forget that ! Can buoy means a youne sailor who rushes the can. Lead line is a line drawn with a lead pencil. wind-Jass — ^that's a sailor's iweetheart. Starboard— fhsX means a star boarder on a yacht. Bart means any old port in a storm or any old port wine that's lying around loose. Capsize-Ahit caps for yachtsmen vary in sizes. They wear bigger ones in the morning, of course. Avast heaving— Xhsi means, stop being seasick. Captain's quarters^MX the 2S- -(Interrupting.) T\f Carter's Liver JHlUt Now, isn't that sweet and appropriate? Go ahead! You've got me Hungry no v. Mid— Oh! that's awful! (Disgusted.)— Carter's Liver Pills. End— They're awful, but it rhymes with thrills, and hills and ills. Give me some more; my poetic brain is working. Mid— Here's another: (Enthusiastically.) The farmer's boy now gladly comes" With all his merry tunes, He sits down quick, beside the maid— End — (As before) ^^ ^P* ^** pamaioons / You can't loose me. See how quick I got the rhyme for you ? Mid— Your poetry will never do. It would not please the ladies. Now, I'U 68 The Witmark Minstrel Guide. show you the style of poetry the ladies admire. This is my own compositioiL (Points out toward audience dramatically.) See the little cloudlet, Over the little wavelet, I^ike a tiny leaflet Dawn-cing o^er the sea. End — Dawfi-cing o'er the sea ! You ought to have seen your mouth. It look- ed as if it had dropped out of its place. (Imitates him. ) See the little cloudlet, Over the little wavelet. Oh, somebody ought to hit You with a ten-inch gimlet. You ought to go down in the jrardlet. To the pumplet, And soak your big fat headlet, Dawn-cing o'er the sea ! You make me tired and weary. Mid— Here is something I think real sweet and pretty. (Recites again.) I know a maiden young and fair, With heart as light as feather ; With garlands in her nut-brown hair, Tripping through the heather. End — You ought to go out in the street and let a trolley car run over you. The idea of a girl with nothing but garlands in her hair, tripping through the heather. Why, the poor girl would catch cold tramping around m 9ie wet grass. Here, I'll show you how you ought to recite that : I know a maiden young and fair, Her shoes were made of leather, She fell down stairs and broke her hair, And the air was full of weather. Mid— I don't like your poetry. End — ^Well, I don't like yours. Somebody ought to go out and get a nice warm custard pie and push it up against your face. **Tripping through the heather ! " You're a nice plum, you«ire. Mid — I'll try you again. L/isten to this. (Recites.) She thought of the flowers and stars above. And then she thought of the power of love. Now, isn't that very, very pretty ? End — You make me sick 1 Here's what she ought to say : She thought of Mike Who was often beside her. And then she turned, and Stepped on a spider. See ! that's natural. The spider is liable to be there, and she could step on it. ; public wants n shy things you'^ a cigarette crank ! The public wants natural poetry. Things that are liable to happen, not the crazy, mushy things you've been writing. You ought to be arrested I You're worse than The Witmark Minstrel Guide. 69 Eni>— Not a bit like it 1*11 give you that Listen : Down in the kitchen A maiden fair Out of the hash Was picking her hair, rBnd overjoyed at his success and Middle thoroughly disgusted and speech- less.) CRYING GAG. MiDDLB^I was just thinking of the time I sang at a party, and the song is one I shall never forget It carries me back to dear old England. End — Carries vou back ! I guess that's the only rvay youHl ever get back. It's cheaper than paying your fare. Mid — Here it IS. (Takes out ballad, sheet music) Now, very few people know how to render a ballad, but I flatter myself that / can. This is called ** Sweetheart, why did you leave me? " End — I see you put the emphasis on why did you leave me. You place the adverb before the aj^gizdupais. Mid — Now listen ! I'll read you the poem and sing the chorus. (Begins to beat time with one hand.) Oh-0-0-0. End — You have a touch of the hydro^xdna^ haven't you? Mid — ^That's how it begins. Oh-t5^5^ End — I know you otve everybody, but go on. Mid — You see it is carried over into the next bar. End — '^oMOtve the next bar, too, do you? Well, show me some bar you don' t owe. Mid — (Reads) — Oh-0-0 sweetheart, why did you leave me? Tell me, was it fault of mine ? End — He wants to know if it's his fault that he owes every bar. Mid — (Annoyed, but resumes reading.) — Oh! 'tis the first time you have grieved me; you always were so good and kee-ind. End — Good and '* kee-ind ! " Mid — (Reads) — Do you recall when last we parted? End — Do I ? Well, I thought you'd never get home. Mid — (Reading) — You were so full of joy and bliss. END^Oh I but you had a load of joy and bliss on board. (Laughs. ) Where wasthat we parted? Corner of Freeze to Death and Chilly Avenues, wasn't it? You went one way, I went three different ways. Mid — ( Angry >— I'm reading you the song. End — I'm telling you how we parted. Mid — I don't wish to hear it. (Reads. ) You were so true and gentle-hearted. I never thought (begins to sob) 'twould come to this. End— Come to what ? Mid — (Sobs) — I never thought 'twould come to this. ^Weeps and sobs, then repeats / never thought Hwould come to this. End begins to sob and cry also. Both are now crying. ) Mid — Oh, 'tis the wail of a saddened heart. End — It sounds more like the exhaust of a bath tub. Mid — (Sobs ) — You don't know how this touches me. (Weeping. ) End— I don't care as long eisyou don't touch me. Mid — (To Company) — Would you like to hear the chorus? (They all nod yes. ) (To end. ) Would you like to hear the chorus ? End — I'll stay if the rest do I (All the weeping and sobbing is done accord- ing to judgment of both Middle and End. ) Mid — It is in seven flats, f Wails) End— That soimds a little flat to me. Mid— (Half sings or wails)— Sweetheart ! Sweetheart 1 I'm singing through Hie lattice. Thk Witmark Minstr^i, Guid9. ^ Bkd— It sounds as if you were singing through your nose. ' Hid — This song is sung to the accompaniment of the cricketSL Bnd— Poor litOe crickets. It's tough on them. Mid— Sweetheart I End — (Sobs) — Are there izvo of 'em ? If ID — "So. It is slurred 1 End — ^The second sweetheart is slurred^ poor thing. (Sobs.) Mid — (Sin^) — Some day you will return to me. Oh! I can't sing -it (Breaks down m sobs.) Bnd— Whistle it I Mid — Oh ! I can't see a note. End — ^You never can when they're due. But go on; make me weep. Mid — (Sings) — 'Twill free my heart from every — ^there's an accidental. (I/>oks at music.) End— Tear it off ! (Wipes eyes with 'kerchief.) Mid— Oh 1 I can't finish it (Weeps. ) End — I'm so glad. ^ Weeps. ) You've got a nice voice and you read a song so pathetically. Your voice is fishy and scafy like, but it's good. I was a good shiger before I got married. (Weeps ) Oh I I'm so happy I wish I were dead. Mid — ^You married late in life. (Sobs. ) End. — (Sobs) — / luish I'd made tt later. Mid — ^Whom did you marry ? ^ End — ^Widow Jones. Hank Jones' widow. Mid— Did he leave any real estate ? End — ^Yes ; he left the earth. Mid — I mean, did he leave anything? End— ( Crying)— What ? Mid — Did he leave anything? End — ^Yes; I married what he left ! N. B.— This is what is called a ** Crying Gag," and judgment is required to not overdo the sobs and weeping, gradimlly working up to a good crying finish. MODERN DEFINITIONS OF COMMERCIAL TERMS. End — ^Are you a man of business ? Middies — No, sir; I am a gentleman of leisure. I*m living on my income. End — I guess yo^x haven't got long to live, have you ? Now, let me give you ft pointer about banking affairs, a sort of up-to-date definition of commercial terms. Mid— What is a bankrupt? End — A man who gives everything to his lawyer so that his creditors will get it. Assignee is the chap who has the deal and gives himself four aces. A bank is a place where people put their money, so it will be handy when other folks want it A depositor is a man who don't know how to spend his money, and gets the cashier to show him. President is the big fat man who promises to boss the job and afterwards sub-lets it, A director is one of those that accepts a trust that don't involve either the use of his eyes or ears. Cashier is of en a man who imdertakes to support a wife, six children and a brown stone front, on thirty dollars a month anaoe honest. Collaterals are certain pieces of paper as good as gold and payable on the prst day of April, Assets usually consist of five chairs and an old stove; to these may be added « spittoon, if the bust ain't been a bad one. The Witmark Minstrbl Guide. 71 Liabilities are usually a big blind that the assets won't see nor raise at anj time. A Note — ** A promise to do an impossible thing at an impossible time." Mid — Suppose, in business, a man robs you of twenty dollars, what is he? End— He's a thief, a mean, paltry thief. Mid — Suppose he robs the bank of half a million dollars ? End — Oh f He^s only a defaulter and a tourist. THE BOY STOOD ON THE BURNING ROOF. End — I went to a party the other night and I heard a great recitation by Monahan, the Irishman that works in the lumber yard. MiDDi«E — What was the name of the recitation ? End — ^The Boy Stood on the Bumine Roof. Mid— You've got it wrong, I know the recitation very well. It begins thus : *• The boy stood on the burning: deck, Whence all but him had fled. The flames that lit the battle wreck, Shone brightly o'er his head. End— Oh, cheese it 1 Not a bit like it Yours is the old way. It won't d# now-a-days. They want it up-to-date, with new ideas. Mid— Nonsense; that poem cannot be improved upon. END-~That's all you know about it. You ought to hear Monahan recite it, with his Irish brogpie and the way he used his hands. Mid — Go ahead, recite it for us. End — I'll show you how Monahan walked, talked and looked. {Gets up and limps to C and recites in Irish dialect y accompanying^ with gro» iesque gyrations ana grimaces,) The boy stood on the burning roof, Whence all but him had fled. The building being quite fireproof. With flam'*'' ^ras painted red. Huge tongues of flame in fiendish joy Kept darting out like mad, And began to lick that noble boy, As if they were his dad. "Tump P* yelled the horror stricken crovru ^'Jump, bubby, from the rida'e." **l can't!'* he dancing shrieked aloud, •^T'AiJ ain't no Brooklyn Bridge.** The firemen tried in sad despair That gallant boy to soak. But alas, no stream could reach him there ; A nd he began to smoke f Then came a voice of thunder sound. Prom one cool man below : "I'll save ye. boy, unless you're broiled- Jump 1 when 1 say, to go I" Then snatching up a hose, he aimed A mighty stream on high ; *\/ump on that water r* he exclaimed, "And grab it tight or diel" ^t Rurroo ! With one terrific scream; Out jumped that little kid. He grabbed that solid stream of water, A nd safely to thegrou nd he HiA. (Returns to seat) f2 THB WlTMARK MiNSTREl* GUIDB. A VEGETABLE STORY. Bni>-->I worked for a farmer and fell in love with his daughter. Her name I Marjemm Pickles^ and her father was an Old Seed Cucumber. I had charge cf the vegetables and I'd make love to his daughter as I worked in the garden, Ae was a vegetable eirl. She had carroty hair, reddish cheeks, turnip nose and ^es like ontons, and they'd always leek. I suppose you know the names of all >vegptables, so 1*11 use then: names to tell you my story. I was working one day, Inking my thyme when along came Sweet Marjoram with such a sage look on her fcce that I said ** Oh " seven times. I was about to put eight o*s when I saw she kad a bottle. She said it was Pas nip, so I couldn't cabbage it. Just then Old fkkUs came over the fence. It was of barbed wire and it tore his dothes badly, ijghich made him rue barb fences after that. I saw he was mad for the bunch of $tinach on his chin was agitated by the breeze. I says lettuce have peas, beans^ n'syou! He says: * 'No; you can't 5/rrff^^^aif 5 around here. Ill cut down your 9§Ury, you laz3r cauliflower,^'' VLj anger began to sprout. I threw a tomato at him kit it fell on his com. Then he was beet. He found out that I was Uimtpump* *ins for I pickled that cucumber quick. I've been the dandy iion ever nnocb M9d now ril squash my atory. HOLD YOUR HEAD UP. End - 1 went to see my young lady the other night and her father came in. He says, " Who are you?" I told him I was a newspaper man and was going to start a paper. He says: **It looks so, you began to make your visits weekly. Then it grew to be in-weekly and now it's t/az/y, with a Sunday suppletnenU^ I told him after marriage we might have an extra. But there was no use starting a newspaper in that town. The old maids would go around and tell all the news before I could print it. When I proposed to this young lady I couldn't say a word. I got a sort of stage fright. I fell on my knees and couldn't think of any- thing. Just then her father came in and helped me out, MiDDXfE — For a fellow who pretends to be smart, you have a peculiar way in talking. You carry your head down. Why don't you walk with your head up- right as I do ! End — I hang my head down and your head always stands up ! Mid — Certainly, (laughs) your head han^ down. END^Have you ever been through a field of wheat when its ripe ? Some of lie heads stand up and some hang down I Mid— Well, what of it? 'CID— The heads that stand up are empty. There's nothing in them . THE SEGAR trick. MlDDl,B— I attended a reception last evening and I saw a clever thing. I 4iink I can reproduce it. It is an optical illusiod. (Produces two segars from vest ^ holds them up to view. ) How many segars do I hold in my hand ? End— Two ! Mid — You are wrong; I have three ! I'll prove it. Here's one, and here's two ! Two and one are three. See I It's a simple trick in addition and an optical illu- sion- ( Is about to return segars to vest and laughing over his cleverness. ) End — ^Wait a minute. Do that again, will you ? ( Coaxes Mid. to show the trick again, which he does by pointing to one segar, then to the other, then adding — I/et me do it again ? (Counts as before.) Here's one, here's two. Two and one are three. Very clever, very clever 1 (To other Bud man.) Have a aegar? (Bud man takes it.) I'll keep this one. (Puts remaining aegar L:. Ua vest pocket and returns to seat.) Mid— Here, here I Where's my segar? Bnd— ( Laughs. ) Yon smoke the third one 1 COINaDBNCBS OP MARRIED LIFE. Can be related alternately after overture^ by 2 or 4 men First Bnd. — ^There are some very strange coincidences in married life) aomething strange in the names of wives selected by business men. Now for instance; yon remember Mr. Smith, the furniture dealer? Well, what do yon think is his wife's name ? MiDDi^B. — What is the name of the furniture dealer's wife? First End.— 5.— Leaner. (Lena.) Third End.— Can you tell me an appropriate name for a shoemaker's wife? "" Mid. — I can't say that I can ? Third End —Peggy. Foxtrth End.— Now, what wofold yon call an auctioneer's wife? ^ Mid.— Don't know ! V' Fourth End. — Bid-d'^m 74 Thb Witmark Minstrel Guide. COURTING AND THE NEW METHOD OF WEIGHING. End. — I don't like my girl's little brother. He's a villain. He put a tack on the chair the other evening. And the business end of the tack was up. Well, I sat down and I jumped about ten feet Now, if there's anything that will make a man rise q^uick in this world — it's a tack. And that boy laughed and laughed at me. Well, it wasnH my place to laugh ^ so I had to grin. We sit on the sofa and call each other pet names She calls me lovey-oh4ovey and I call her dovey. Her right name is Livery Stables, but I don't call her that. Her people are all high strung. Her father was hung. All her folks belong to a base ball club. She used to catch me and ask me in the house and her big brother would pitch me out. Then I'd make a home run and stay there. Whenever I wanted to get her out, I'd go imder the window and shout ^r^?. She'd look out and say Whereas fire ? a:id I'd put my hand on my heart and say Right here. Her mother got on to my racket, lor one night she threw a bucket of water all over me 9xAput the fire out. Say, do 3^ou think (local town) is a healthy place? I do. Now, a friend of mine said to-day that when he first came here he weighed 86 pounds. Now he weighs 2)1 pounds. Must be a healthy place. Now when I first came here I only weighed 6 pounds I Look at me now ! MIDDI.E. — ^That's wonderful. End. — Not so wonderful; I was bom here. Speaking of weight, come down t o the fish dock and see me weigh the stuff; then come over to the slaughter-house. I'm in great demand. I don't think this city could get along without me. Mid. — Have you charge of the scales? End. — No! It's a new method, ( Eiylaining. ) They drive the cattle past me and I say those oxen weigh eleven hundred pounds. Those calves weigh three liundred and six pounds, those hogs six hundred pounds , those sheep one thousand pounds, and it's always accurate Mid, — You guess at it. End. — No — No — right every time. It's a gift I have. I can tell the weight of anything. Tell how long you wait for her on the comer. Mid. — You can tell the weight of anything? I'll try you (To circle.) r,entlemen, I was weighed to-day and you know my weight. (Rises. ) Come, sir ! 1 low much do I weigh ? End. — Come down where I can see your feet. (Looks him over.) You — you weigh exactly 172 pounds and an ounce. Mid. — That's my weight to a fraction. This is wonderful. How do you do this ? How can you do it ? End. — ^That's nothing ? I'm weighing hogs every day ! (Middle man sits, disgusted.) MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS. End. — Come down and see me. I'm working in a music store. I'm head clerk. If a fly gets on the window, it's my duty to brush him off, and I chase dirt with a broom. When they are short of shavings they use me for shavings to pack boxes. Do you know that I can tell just what kind of a musical instrument a man wants the minute he comes into the store. If I know his occupation, I know just what musical instrument will suit him. Middle. — Do you mean to say that a man's business should have anything to do in selecting a musical instrument? ICni). — Yes — and I'll bet you an overcoat — something you need — that I can prove that all occupations need certain musical instruments. Mid. — Very well ; I'll try you. What would be a suitable instrument for a letter carrier? IvN D. — Letter carrier — Bag pipes. Mid. — What should a doctor play on ? End. — Nose doctor — catarrh {guitar) and an ear doctor, the drum. The Witmark Minstrbl Guide. /5 Mid. — MusicaHnstrument for free inasons? End. — Cymbals, (symbols.) Mn>. — For bank cashiers and escaped swindlers ? * End. —Gong, ( Gone. ) Mid. — A man that keeps a bad hotel ? End — A vile inn. (violin.) Mid. — Good instrument for a pawnbroker? End —Jew's harp. Mid. — Good one for a politician ? End. — Any kind of a wind organ. Mid. — Good musical instrument for a mother-in-law ? End. — The jaw bone. Mid. — For ball players ? End, — The double base, (bass.) Mid. — Now what is a ^ood instrument for two voung lovers ? End. — Mouth harmonicas ! Yum, yum, yum .' THINGS ARE VERY MIXED. CROSS- FIRK. Bones. — Peculiar thing I saw in a cemetery. A woman had buried seven husbands there, and to be economical she had one tombstone for the whole lot; she had a hand chise.led on it pointing upwards ; I suppose in the direction she thought they had gone An old gambler came along and wrote under the hand seven up. Speakiiig ot gambling, did you ever hear the A B C of poker? Mid. — I don't quite comprehend Bones. — ^The A B C of poker— 2x1 alphabet composed expressly for people who play poker. I'll recite it for you. Mid. — I*m all ears. BoNBS. — Anybody can see that you're a donkey without j't7« telling us. Now listen : THE POIIER AI.PHABET. A is the ante, B is the bluff ; C IS l.ic cash which is vulgarly stuff ; D is tliv draw a momemous eveiii ; K is i\ir elevate, takes your last cent ; V is the i » I you h.ive w»>eii you win ; G iji \.\\K gillie who l-nses hi^ tin ; H is the mild th it i • dealt Ui you pat \ I sliud-i fir in. an i.nvx>rtHni 'thing that ; J is Wicjack pot, who>e |iraises we sing ; K is the kitty, vivacious tning ; L is the loser, he's alwavs ftiuund ; M is the nio -cy which tLo not altound ; N is the noodle WmxX. plays up two pair; O is the opener laying hi- snare ; P is for poker, our national game ; S stands for ^.//V, but you don't all the same ; is for raise, and it otten sounds hard ; S is the squeezer that's marked on the card ; T is the time that you waste when you deal ; U is vour uncle to whom you appea'l ; V was the come in, you know the cost ; W is the ividow who wins what you lost ; X is the sum that you bet upon 'trips ; V is the youngster who collared the chips ; Z is the zeal with which one will expend Time, money a nd gaslight to do up a friend. Tambo — Poker is all guess work, it's palmistry; trying to read other peoples* hands. I wish I could read my hand and find out who I am. MiD^Find out who you are ? Why, don't you know ? Tambo— Nu; 1 belong to the most mixed- up family you ever heard tell of. 76 The Witmark Minstrel Guide. I*m so mixed up that 111 commit suicide if I don't soon find out who I am and where I am. Mid— Tell me of vour troubles; perhaps I can solve the problem for you. Tambo — It's all through marriage. I married a widow who had a grown up daughter. My father visited our house very often, fell in love witli my step- daughter and married her. So my father became my son-in-law, and my step- daughter, my mother, because she was my father's wife, and sh was also my moffier-in-law. Soon afterwards my wife had a son; he was my father's brother- in-law and my uncle, for he was the brother of my step- mother. My father's wife, who was ni]^ step-daughter, had also a son ; he was, of course, my brother and in the meantime my grandchild, for he was the son of my daughter. My wife was my grandmother, because she was my mother's mother. I was my wife's husband and grand-child at the same time. (Begins crying. ) Mid — Well, who are you ? Tambo— I am my own grandfather. WHAT LOVE WILL DO. Bnd^I attended a party last ni^ht, and a married man next to me got himself disliked. Some one passed him the tongue and he says: No thanks; I get plenty of that at home. Say, did you hear about it? My tijather-in-law com- mitted suicide. She left the gas turned on all night ana in the morning she was defunct. Middle — That's too bad. End— I should say it was. See the gas bill Pll have to pay . Mid — I did not know that you were married. End — I'm just bejjinning to realize it myself. Mid — Marriage, Sir, is like a beautiful dream. End — ^That's light; you go into it with your eyes shut. But oh ! how you wake up afterwards. Mid — You shouldn't complain ; none but the brave deserve the fair. End — It takes mighty brave men to get along with them after you deserve them . A man never gets through with dressmaker's bills and millinery. You don't see any more ** Jerseys" worn now do you? That was purely an American ' invention. Mid — I beg to differ; they vere made and worn abroad. End — No, sir; the map of the United States was the first to wear a Nerv fersey. Are you married ? Mid— No, but I expect soon to be. * End — Who would have you, I'd like to know ? Mid— Ah I I have several chances, but the girl I want for a wife must possess certain qualities. She must be sensible and not vain. She must be a help- mate in every sense of the word. I want a young lady for a wife who will go down in her mother's kitchen and knead bread ! End — (Laughs. ) You bet your life, if she marries you, she'll need bread. Mid^No, sir ; for a good wife, I'd live on bread and water, and (enthusiastically) if we love each other, we'll both live on bread and water. End— Correct again ! She'll have to furnish the bread, and you'll manage to get 2l pail of water now and then. TWO NOBLE HEROES. End — I see you are wearing a lot of medals on your coat. You're not Sousa or a hero from Manila, are you ? Middle— No sir ! but I am a famous life-saver. End— A life saver ? Mid — If you have not heard the story I'll tell it to you. I chanced to be down at the sea-shore last summer. Th« WlTMARlC MiNSTREI. GuiDE. 77 Bnd— You chanced to be there? Sneaked down, did you, in a freight car? Mid— (Annoyed.) Oh, no! As I said before, I chanced to be there, and while strolling on the beach I saw a yac'iting party quite a distance out. Sud- denly a treacherons squall swept in from the sea. The yacht was instantly capsized. I heard a woman scream as the vessel careened and they were cast into the sea. What did I do ? End— K7« stole the boat. Mid— (Vexed.) Nonsense! I instantly plunged into the water; swam out with the over-hand stroke, for which I am famous, and reached one of the ladies and brought her safe to the shore. I plunged in again and swam out once more. End —With the same underhanded stroke that you touch with ? Mid— (Not noticing him.) 1 swam thus: (Illustrates the motion and becomes excited and dramatic. ) I reached another lady and brought her safe to the beach. Then, sir, I plunged in again — (everybody excited) swam out to what I supposed was another drowning woman. I reached out and grasped — what ? .'/ lady^s switch ! But I brought it ashore and presented it to the woman who had lost it. End — And you call yourself a life-saver ? You're not a hero nor a life-saver. Mid -What am I? End — You're a hair restorer. THE NEW HOTEL. RUI,ES AND REGUI,ATI0NS End — If you're ever hungry and sleepy, come down to my new hotel. I'll treat you all right. Mid — So you've opened a hotel, have you ? Are you doing well ? End — As well as could be expected I have a set of rules and regulations, or I could never run it at all. Would you like to hear them ? Mid — I certainly would. End — Here they are: (reads from paper.) ATTENTION, BOARDERS, STRANGERS AND GUESTS. Board, 50 cents per square foot ; meals extra. Breakfast at five, Dinner at six and Supper at seven. Guests are requested not to speak to the dumb waiter. Guests wishing to ,s:et up without being called, can have self raising flour for Supper or a pint of yeast to rise earlier. Not responsible for diamonds, bicycles or trunks left under the pillows. Leave them with the landlord. The hotel is convenient to all cemeteries. Hearses to hire at 25 cents a day. Guests wishing to do a little driving will find a hammer and nails in the closet. If the room gets too warm open the window and see the fire escape. If you're fond of athletics and like good jumping, li/l the mattress and see the bed spring. Baseballists desiring a little practice will find a pitcher on the stand. If the lamp goes out, take a feather out of the pillozv ; that's light enough for any room. Anyone troubled with night-mare will find a halter on the bed-posi. Don't worry about paying your bill ; the house is supported by its foundations. We do not ring a bell for breakfast, we ivring a towel or let the napkin ring. If you find anything vsduable in the soup, please return it to the landlord, so be can use it again. Eggs, two cents for two ; each, if hatched, one cent extra. 78 The Witmark Minstrel Guide. If you wish to see eaudy insects fluttering in your room to remind you of summer, get some bread and butter. It is Vi^grub that makes the butter-fly. Rooms, with or without floors, walls or ceiling. At the table if you wish the milk, don't yell ^a^^ the cow ; somebody will take you for a calf. If you are from (local town), blow out the gas. You don't know any better. A DIFFICULT PROBLEM. End— I was working on the farm la«t summer and a dude came up to mc and wanted to be funny. He says: ** Boy ! bring me a ' milk shake ' quick." Middle — What did you do? End — I brought him the chum ! That was a milk shake Are you married ? Mid — No, sir; and don't intend to be. Marriage, sir, is just like a lotteir. End— Oh, I don't know ; you don't have to keep 4he^5/ at sixty he r^oXizes ; also, at twenty he scrutin;r^5 all the girls; at twenty-two he idolizes some other fellow's sister; at twenty-six he "xeopQxdizes his neck by stayi.ig out late; at twenty-seven he paral/>^.y himself if he has' the price. So, you see, life is full of 'izes.' Are you good at figures and problems ? Mid — ^Yes ; I am counted quite clever. End — Take out your paper and pencil and figure this out for nie. ( Middle with pencil and card.) Now then, a man of thirty-five years old marries a girl of five. Mid — Five years old f Nonsense ! ♦ A^^ End — Put it down. A man of thirty- five marries a girl of five. He is now I V five times as old as his wife. I Mid — Yes ; seven times five are thirty-five . End— They live together five years; now he is forty and she is ten years old, and he's only four times as old as his wife. Mid — Ten times four are forty; go on ! End— They live together five years longer. Now he's forty-five and she's fifteen. Now he's only three times as old as his wife. Mid — Yes, sir. Go on; you've got me interested. End — ^They live together fifteen years longer ; put that down. Now lie is sixty ^ears old and his wife is thirty years of age. Now he's only t7vice a*: old as his wife. Mid — (Anxiously.) — Yes, yes; go on ! He's now only tivice as oUl as his wife. End — Now figure it all up and tell me how long they have got to lix-c ii^rcther until the f re both of the same age ? (Middle completely floored and End triumphantly laughs and Iooks at audience. ) BOX VOYAGE. End- What business iirj ;ovi in? I saw you taking a lot of old tin cans into a grocery store. Mid — I'm in the canning business — canning pears, peaches and tomatoes. End — Is that so ? I'm in the wholesale dry goods business. So you're in the canning business, are you ? What do you do with such a whole lot of pears and peaches ? Th« Witmark Minstrki, Guidb. 79 Mid — ^Well, we eat what we can^ and what we can*t eat we can, (Laughs at his witty retort.) End — iThoujsfhtfuUy.) — Eat what you can, and what you can*t eat you can! Just like my business. Mid— How? End — We sell an order when wc can se!l it and when we can't sell it, why, we can-eel W.. (Laughs derisively.' Eit wliat yoii can, and what you can't eat you €an! you* re a can-can kind of a cliump, you are. Mid— I heard that you went to Europe last summer. Did you have a don voya/^e/ • Strong French accent.) End— The bunimesl yo.i ever saw. Mid — 1 mea-i was it exhilarating? End — No ! I went in the stecragi . Mid — You don't quite comprehend me. Did you have a bcm voyage? End -I tell you it was very bum all the way over. Mid — *^ Bon voyage^* means a good trip, a splendid voyage. Friends will stand on the wharf and as you sail awav they will wish you a bon voyage. End — That's what you mean, is it? Well, I never want to see such a trip again. The first day out, it was splendid. IC very body was on deck. The ladies swapping magazines ; the men swapping ci^(ars and chews of tobacco. It was a a happy family, and all were on the best of terms. But the third day 1 (Makes a motion with hands and a grimace of pain sliows on face. ) The third aay ! The ship turned a somersault. 0*i, but it was rough and stormy ! All the passengers would come upon deck and look at one another kind of suspicious like. They didn't trust one another or care to be friendly. It seemed that if they knew any- thing about one another, they'd throw it up right away. I was down in my cell — Mid — Not cell, state-room. End— Yes ; I'm getting the tips miTced. I was very sick. I was just able to crawl on deck and holler "New York" and "Europe" in a subdued manner. Talk about your bum voyage. It was worse than that. Everybody was sick. The captain and even all the sailors were sick. I felt sorry for one poor sailor. Oh ! he was the sickest sick sailor on the ship, and I felt sorry for him on this bum voyage . Mid — (Correctingly.) — How do you know he was the sickest man on the hip ? END^Because the captain ordered him to go forward and heave up the .nchorl Section UTI« MONOLOGUES. In this section will be found many novel monologues, etc., yet the monologuist is not confined to them, as the gags and cross-fires in Section VI. contain many bright anecdotes and squibs which can be made to become part and parcel of an original monologue. By recalling a number of these short happenings, the story-teller will be able to construct any number of monologues upon varied subjects. The in- ventive entertainer can easily arrange some original patter that will consistently lead from one subject to another, and as mono- loguists have a wide license in the selecting of their topics or chatter he will find abundant material in Sections VI. and VII. for his use. ARE WOMEN MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN MEN? A MONOI^OGUB. I have been asked to come here before this assemblage of graduates, learned people, bond holders and the sheriff, who is concealed somewhere in the building, to take up a knotty problem. I know that I shall get myself disliked by the men and I shall be hated by the women, but the truth is mighty and must prevail, and my maiden name is Truth. The subject is, '*Are women more beautiful than men ?* I want you to take a good look at me and then ask such a silly question; yet, it is a (question agitating many minds and must be sifted at once. Are women more beautiful than men ? Do men stand admiring themselves or combing their hair for hours at a time ? Rubbing rouge on their faces; salve on their lips? Penciling their eyebrows and blackening their eyelashes; do they? I've seen them black each others eyes, but that was done when they didn't expect it. Do men lace themselves so tight that they can't sit down ? They get tight, 1*11 admit, and can't stand up, or get up, but that's not through lacing. Its through fullness, that has been accumulated in several places. You ask, *' Is man more beautiful than woman ! " Go to the menagerie ; look around you ! The lioness is a verj' plain-looking animal. l/ook at the Lion. A noble- looking fellow, with a mane and a superior look in his face. Take a look at the Peacock's wife. A plain ordi- nary looking affair ; but he, the gentleman, the Peacock ! Isn't he a beauty ? Isn't he a dream ? Talk of loveliness ! Then look at the bird of Paradise, gorgeous plumage and lovely feathers on his head. He's a he too ! His wife looks like thirty cents. Then look at the majestic Rooster in the barn yard ! What a dis- play of beautiful manhood and elegance. What does the hen look like? She*s a sight ! She's goin^ around in a wrapper, scratching here and there, and talking ; back-biting her neighbors She looks up to her husband as a superior being, and she knows he is. She's thankful she's alive, for she's too homely to die. Ivook at the gentlemeir Ostrich ! See him strutting about, eating nails, horseshoes and scrap iron. There is a vision of manly beauty, and his wife, a little sawed-ofF, measly-looking bird, with hardly enough feathc to make a bustle. Nothing The Witmark Minstrki. Guide. 8i conld be more handsome thau a beautiful man ! Are you looking at Me/ ! I haye taken the animals as an illustration and a proof. Now we come to the next generation of animals— man ! Nobody wants to descend from monkeys, but sometimes we can't help that which our ancestors do, or were. I am not here to go back into my family tree and find out who cut up monkey-shines in it. We hear the gabbling of this one or that one, saying that woman, the beau- tiful creature, chooses her mate. And that often she marries a homely man ! In olden times man stole his wife. He'd dash right in, grab whoever he could and away he went. Now-a-days he wishes somebody would rush in and steal her from him, but they won't There's where times have not improved. I said primitive man stole his wife; later on he bought her. He's given horses, sheep or furs to her parents, and thus bought her. Of course he was buncoed ; just as he is now- a-days. She didn't care about his looks as long as he had money and was soft and easy. In fact, what we call now-a-davs "a good thing." In the present century woman often buys a husband. # All she gets in return is a titJe, a broken- down, moth-eaten bargain-counter duke or an earl. This shows that man is still the handsomest creature, or why would they go across the ocean after him and give him all that good American money — ^just to get his name? There is no doubt that woman is very beautiful, artificially^ or accidentally, and they are called the^** fair sex " because they are always fair in dealing with the men, if the men are out of their reach. Their fancy colored silks, satins, false hair, manufactured cheeks and per-oxide of hydrogen, blond tresses, of course, give them additional charm, but we do not need these deceptions to increase our beauty. We do not sail under false colors. You see \x&just as we are. Our beauty speaks for itself, and we are the real dairy butter and 7iot oleo-tnargerine. Are woman handsomer than men? Ask this question of one another and look around you — upon the natural beauty of the speaker and the gentlemen here assembled. An old English law states that any woman with false hair, false color on cheeks, defective eyesight, or in any way passing herself off as a beauty and natural looking woman ; and luring a ix>or man into marriage, why, it was a crime and the marriage was null and void. A fine law, a good law, but if that law was in force in this city, what a lot of old maids would be looking for work ! (Exits.) GOATS. A MONOI^OGUB. I see that another wonderful medical discovery has been made which will give long life to the human race. Ages ago they sought for the elixir of life, so man could live for ever. Just think of a man who is about seventy taking the new dis- covery and he becoming a school boy at once. Cheating the undertaker and every- body who expects him to croak. Think of a giddy old maid of sixty, gulping down the elixir and sailing in, capturing all the men from the grass widows and yoimg flirts This time the elixir of life has been discovered in goats, and in Chicago. The goat has a strong constitution and never dies; therefore, he is the very one to prolong life in the human race. Wherever goats are abundant, you will see eternal life and life blooming around you. This has been successfully tried in Chicago and it worked all right. % They always work you all right in Chi- cago. This goat lymph or *' Life cells " as is called, is a great thing for mankind. One dose of it will make a man butt his mother-in-law down stairs and eat up all the old tomato cans and posters off the wall, especially if they advertise a burlesque show. Any father can be harnessed to a little wagon and used as a "goat" to amuse children of a younger age. It has been tried and proven to be the real thing in Chicago. « But the experimenters, with commendable caution, first made up their minds to carry out the process known as *' trying it on the dog." A canine of fourteen years was made the recipient of these **I/ife cells" through the medium of hyperdermic injections. And lo! his doggish age was transformed into the live- liness of the frolicsome puppy. He capered. He barked joyously. He chaaed 82 The Witmark Minstrel Guide. his own tail in wild abandon. He chewed up all the rugs and old boots in reach with a keen appetite. And the disciples of science were satisfied that at length they had discovered a sure method to forestall the approach of a^e and turn tottering senility into the pulsing glow of youth. Several human beings have been inocu- lated with this wonderful lymph, and confident hopes are entertained that they will presently show themselves as responsive to its influence as the dog. If this S roves to be the case, life insurance companies may go out of business and the octors can pjull in their shingles. Noboay will grow old or die. All that will be necessary to insure perpetual youth will be the ownership of a healthy goat, war- ranted not to butt. It is indeed a thrilling thought, and there will always be an explanation here- after of any erratic conduct on the part of Chicago's citizens. If any of their number should be arraigned before a Magistrate for too much hilarity he can repel the charge of intoxication with scorn . It will merely be a case of loo much goat. FLIRTATION AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. A SHORT MONOLOGUE PREFACE. I have just a few words to say about flirting . Girls don*t do it ! Better remain old maids all your lives than flirt with strangers. Now with me it's different. You needn't treat me as a stranger; I'll be a brother to you all. I've had over fifty girls tell me they'd be a sister to me, so I can get even by being a brother to some of you. But remember you can't wear any of this (pointing to self) brother's clothes ; he hasn't too many of 'em himself. Here is a little poem on flirting. Mark well the consequences. Mail sees maid; uo word said. She drops glove: he's in love. Hauds to her, " Thank you, sir.* 3he says that. He lifts hat. They soon talk; then take walk. They have cream, love's young dream. Out with moon, how they spoon ! " Will you wed ?" She nods head. They are tied. Life they've tried. Don't like it, just one bit. Knot's untied. 'Way they glide! WHAT IS A KISS? A MONOLOGUE. I Spent the summer at a watering place. I had charge of it; that is to say, I had to Keep it filled with water so the horses and cows could drink out of it. My! but it was warm. I had to keep my mouth full of cracked ice to keep my teeth from melting. It was so hot that ice cream began to fry and boil the minute it was frozen I never saw such hot weather. I guess the thermometer must have been sixty degrees below t principal treet). But for all that I enjoyed myself court- ing. I can't help it; I'm so susceptible. Girls tell me I'm soft, but I don't believe it. I've got a confiding nature, and if they fool me I'm not to blame. But there I'd sit and court and we'd hold hands. What is nicer than to see a couple going along the street, he having her by the hand? He takes her by the hand; and if he's married, when he gets home, he takes her by the neck. As I said before, we'd court and I'd stay Tate. I would have stayed later but I was afraid her father would kick. Her father called me a soda water man; that is the first time I ever knew I looked like n squirt. He once threatened to turn the gas off; that would just suit me. We didn't need any light, for they say love is blind. To prove that love is blind or isn't blind, I was passing the parlor floor, where a young man was courting her sister, and it was quite dark in there I heard her say: **Oh George! you haven't been shaved to-day. " How did she know he hadn't been shaved? The Witmark Minstrbi, Guide. 83 I distinctly heard them kiss each other. It sounded like a cow drawing her foot out of the mud. It must have loosened all her back teeth. But what is a kiss ? Don't you know ? A kiss is an application of two heads and four lips; they create a spark of electricity, which generates a blaze of love and a flame of admiration ana a ** hot time " in your heart ; which bums with the fires of Cupid. What is love ? Love is an itching of the heart, and you can't scratch it out STUMP SPEECHES- WOMAN'S TONGUE. THIS CAN ALSO BE USED FOR A MONOI«OGUE. Fellow citizens, sceptics, Cubans and Filipinos:— I have been called upon to address this assemblage, and I may as well commence — by beginning . Now, we hear of strikes every now and then, but strikes are no new things. Cain's strike was a bad thing for both Abel and Cain. A blacksmith once struck ** while the iron was hot*' and people have been talking about it ever since. George Wash- ington went on a strike in 1776, and he won it without any arbitration. No man ever succeeded in a strike against his mother-in-law, or striking for pie. Having begun with strikes, 1*11 now strike into my subject. My dear hearers, there's nothing destroys so many lives, as death. Some people are killed b}^ accident, and some in battle ; some are lost at sea and some are devoured by wild beasts ; but, my hearers, it is a solemn truth, that nothing kills so many as death. Aye, death has been at work ever since sin entered the world, and has destroyed mil- lions on millions of the human familv. Lots of people died this year who never died before. In view of all this and hotel fires, I have pasted the'f oUowing hotel regulations in my boarding house : Guests jumping from fifth-story windows will be charged extra. In the office of the hotel is a large fire-proof safe ; the propri- etor will not be liable for any guest who does not deposit himself in it for the night. Fire-pumps, served in the rooms, charged extra. But that is neither here nor there. I started in to address this assemblage on the crisis and expansion of territory, on imperialism and the board of strategy in general. To show you the memory and rapi3ity^T)f the American people, I will relate the following: A Delaware farmer sent his ten-year old boy to the spring after a pitcher of water. The boy hid the pitcher near the spring and went away to the West and grew up with the country. Fifteen years later he sold a thousand long-horned steers and started for his old home. Stopping at the spring he found the pitcher just as he had left it when he went away mad. He filled it, and walking beneath the par- ental roof like the prodigal from Squedunk said : ** Father, here is the pitcher of water." ** Thanks, my son," said the thirsty ancestor, '* you always were a quick boy to go on an errand." Now, always remember that woman's tongue is her sword, and she never lets it rust in the scabbard. What does man want ? All he can get. What does a woman want? All she rasm, or the chills and fever. He thinks we're •crazy after him, the fool ! He allows us to sit on his lap until his limbs are dead from his knees down. Then later, after he has coaxeci us to marry him and we sit on his lap he says: '*Oh, Gertrude, you are so heavy." Couldn't you slap his face? I could. And when he's courting us, hear the lies he tells us, and we, like chumpSy believe every word There is where we are weak. Sisters, we have got to shake this imgrateful monster called man. You can get along without it, if you'll only try. It doesn't cut any ice. It tries to blame everything on us. After it is married to us and it stays out late and we reprimand it about it, with a poker or a flat iron, it says it's our fault that it stays out late. That when he was courting us and heM start to go home, we'd say: "Don't go yet; you've got plenty of time," and we'd hold him at the front door. Of course it's a base fab- rication. I never held anyone there. When he wanted to go, I'd sit on him quick, and he couldn't go. Did you ever hear such a petty larceny excuse in all your life? We taught him to stay out late.* And now that he's married, he can't break himself of the habit, (iirls, break his head with a nice fat rolling-pin. And hit him on top of his thinking place. Don't be afraid to hit him hard. You'll look sweet dressed in black, and maybe you'll get his life insurance, too. Th9 WiTMARK MlNSTRKI« GUIDS. But I am here to better your condition, to elevate yon, to obtain for ycm ^ rights. You have as many rights as a man. Be sure you get your rights; fordbly if you must, but get them any way. The cunning wretches take mighty gooa cm that we take their names; nobody else would, I guess. We take their namesi It aught to be reversed. They ought to take our names, for sometimes every- thing a man has got is in Ais wife's name. Are you going to stand his tjrranny ? Ill ^ ' Are you going to be under man*s foot all your lives? Assert yourself I As yoa are going home to-night, and he like a viper, whispers in your ear : ** Will yon have some ice cream, dear ? " Turn on him ! I^t indignation flash from your eyes, and hiss at him : **No! I can buy my (72ie;» ice cream.** But will vou do it? Will you rebuke him ? Those girls in the audience who will rebuke him thus, pleaas stand up! (Pause, then louder.) I sav, those who will not have ice cream from any man, stand up! That* 11 do; sit down. Nobody stood up. You're afraid to lose a good thing, votrre afraid the poor, mushy, soft fool at your side would leave you. You couidu t club iiim awajr. He'A a kcch» a sucking-plaate^ % necessary evil in tne icc cr^^aiu iine. i stana tiere, boia ana ucaGUES OR SPEECHES. For economy's sake I went into pArtuership with a friend. We had a room together. He bought a stove and I paid a mason to make a hole in the wall. We finally fell out and dissolved partnership. He took what belonged to him and I took what belonged to me. He took the stove and left me the hole in the wall. I was walking with my sweetheart, and passing a clothing store, I saw suits advertised for |io apiece. I says: '' Look, darling ! Suits for |io apiece.'' She says: " Is it a wedding suit ? " "No,'* I replied, **it's a business suit." Well, she leplied: ' * I meant business. ' ' ** Man wants but little here below," and he generally gets it where I am boarding at present. t Out West, when they marry a couple, the Justice of the Peace doesn't waste time with a lot of silly questions. He just says : ** Arise! Grab hands! Hitched!" Hands over six dollars to the Court, and you're murdered for life ! Some people sav that dark-haired women marry first. I differ with them . it's the light-headed ones. * There is about as much satisfaction kissing through a telephone as there is eating soup with a fork. I like electricity fresh from the battery. A scientific writer says that kissing is delightful because the jaws are so full of nerves. After a man gets married, he sort of wishes nature hadn't put so many nerves into the jaws. There is a woman in Philadelphia who thinks so much of her husband that she commences 7varming him the moment he comes into the house. Take my advice. Marry for love and not for money. That's the way to fill the Poor House ^ A drunkard lying on the sidewalk being discovered by a policeman said he was studving astronomy because he was thirsty. He said he was looking for the Dipper. A LITTLK GIRL'S COMPOSITION ON EGGS. A RECITATION IN CHILD TAI^K. Thair is a good menny kinds ov aigs. Mi pa sez ime a bad aig, but momma sez yucan't most always beleve what pa sez, an' i think this is a gooH chance for me tnoba mi muther, az the Sundy skule teecher sez little gurls muit du. Mebbe i am a bad aig, but mi pa is a ole rewster, fur Tommie Jones, that's mi bo, sez he is, an ide beleve Tommie if i dide fur it It's mity funny how gurls beleves whot the boys sez. Wimmin duzent beleve that wa ennyhow, all ov them don't after tha air marred, fur i here momma expressin her douts tu pa verry frequent indede When aigs gits old tha carry a onul smel with them whairever tha go an tha go a long wais in most familys. % Ewery kind ov fowl lais aigs. Jo, that's mi bruther, sed the fowels the basebal players nox don't, but i sa^ tha du, fur i here the boys tawkin all the time about givin thother side ** guse aigs,'' an* if the fowels don't la* em, what duz, ide like tu no? Mebbe the bats, but whuevver heard of bat's aigs ? Bats fit like uther burds, but a bat ain't a burd an' don't la' aigs A ^se aig iz the largest domestik aig an' a duk aig iz grene onto the shel. Hen aigs iz nice tu fri, an hatch little chickens out ov, an oysterich aig iz az big 94 I'hb Witmark Minstrki« Guidb. az a gallon bnckit, ba it don*t hav a ball onto it an hoops. Al fethered animals iz hatched oat ov aigs excep* allygateis an' tertols an, thoas kind ov trash. Mi sisteiz bo woar allygaiter butes thother nite, an when i ast him whot he pade f nr them he blusht red an' sed he didn't remember. I wunder if he pade fur them a tall. I gess he's a bag aie. I here pa sa he's going to crak his shel if he don't sta way an' let mi sister aloan. POEMS. TO BBGIN OR INTRODUCE IN GAO. "Ouch, I^ucy !»• I howled, ** You love me no more. You*ve never wore pina In your belt before." Although athletic girls are strong And run and jump and row ; A girl who never trained at all Can draw a six-foot beau. Once more the cranks are filled with glee, Their hearts with joy are aflame. Where'er you fly. you'll hear the cry, ** The (local) ball club have won a game.** The stories of the kissing bug Aroused in her no fears, For she a maiden lady was Of forty some odd years. *Twirt a blonde and brunette I've a call To declare upon whom choice would fall, But between you and me, I've no choice — for you see Vm in love— bless their hearts— with them all. Kate Karney on a summer's day Went out in the meadow to rake the hay ; She wasn't afraid of the bumble bee. For her bloomers were tied below the knee. Husband comes home at night, Get's a kiss— that's all right ; Playful wife on his knee, Gavly chatting, waiting tea. Suaden start, and a stare. On his coat she sees a hair; Hair is red— hers is black- Regular row. for talking back. Hu.sband goes out, mad as a bull. When he comes back, he's ** boiling full.*' A little bag— a pair of skates — Hole in the ice — Golden gates. When the pu^ dog sits in Edith's chair, Oh, don't I wish that I was there ; When her finders pat his head. Oh, don't I wish 'twere mine instead \ When her arms his neck impriaoa. Don't I wish my neck were his^n^ But, when she kisses that pug dog's nose. Oh. don't I wish that mine were those. Tbm Witmark Minstrel Guide. MAUD MULLER AT IHE MATINEE. A RECITATION ON **HATS." Maud Muller on a winter's day Went forth unto the matinee. With twinklinff eyes and rougish smile She sauntered down the centre aisle. She sauntered down, and then she sat Beneath the biggest kind of hat. I sauntered down the aisle and sat Behind her continent of hat . Then, with her hattinh hemisphere, Maud sweetly raked the atmosphere. I, being five feet three, sat there And gazed upon Maud MuUer's hair. The people all around aji^reed The play was very fine indeed. Maud's hat with sweet excitement swayed With what the players said and played. In its wild bobbing here and there I read joy pleasure, grief, despair. When Maud's hat trembled in aifrlght, I knew the villain was in sight. And when it wobbled through the air, I knew the funny man was there. And when that hat with tremblings bobbed, Methought the hero-lady sobbed. At last I 'rose and went my way Prom out that weary matinee. Out to the street I made my way And paused a bit to sigh and say: •* Of all sad words on earth. I ween. The saddest are these. ' I might have seen.* ** And I pitied those men, who, like me, sat Right Dehind that woman's hat. HAMLET ON THE HASH HOUSE. To eat or not to eat, that's the question. Whether *tis better on the whole to suffer The slurs and slaps of rambustuous waitexs Or to take arms against the set of trollops, And, by shooting, end them ? To dine, to sup-^ No more ; and by a fast, to say we end The insults and the thousand usual shocks Who dine are heir to, *tis a constmimation Devoutly to be wished. To eat, to dine ; To sup, perchance to shoot — aye, there's the mb I For by that shot what officers may come And drag us to the station house, Must give us pause. There's the respect That compels compliance with the law ; For who would bear the fare, the bolts and bats Life in the Tombs in Murderers' Row, The loss of liberty, the law's delay. The infamy of prison, and the lies Made up b^ rascally reporters, When he himself might his quietus make 96 The Witmark Minstrei* Guide. By simply starving ? Who would farther bear The sneers and snubs of a slujg^ging scamp, But that the dread of something more than words — The trifler returns — ^puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear our hungry lot Than fly to chop-rooms that we know not of ! MARY*S LAMB ; IN BOSTON. AS recited by A FOUR-YKAR-OLD BOSTON GIRI,. Mary was the proprietress of a diminutive incipient sheep, Whose outer covering was as devoid of coloring as congealed atmospheric vapor, And to all localities to which Mary perambulated The young Southdown was sure to follow. It tagged to the dispensary of learning One diurnal section of time, Which was contrary to all precedent And excited the cachination of the Seminary attendants. When they perceived the presence of the young mutton at the establishment of instruction. Consequently theprecepter expelled him from the interior ; But he continued to remain in the immediate vicinity And continued in the neighborhood without f retf ulness, Until Mary once more became visible. (N. B. — The reciter of the above puts on a pair of spectacles and imitates a precocious youngster of either sex, but very wise and intelligent for its years.) Section UTn« A REPORTER'S DESCRIPTION OF A SOOETY CAKE-WALK. RKPRODUCRD HBRB AS A SUGGESTION FOR COSTUMES, PI.ACING OF JUDG^, ETC. *• Jack," said the little ^irl in the bright green gown with peacock feathers in her hat ; ** Jack, they're going to start. Now don't forget to take my hand when we get in front of the judges." *' Trust me," returned Jack, a long youn^ man in a frock coat, flaring collar and a heart-besprinkled shirt front. ** The judge who sits in the middle ' 11 come right down if you give him one of those melting looks of yours." The girl in the green dress and peacock feathers was one of a long line of strangely costumed feminine figures. The long young man in a frock coat was one of another long line of similarly attired beings of the male persua- sion. The two lines were parallel arrangements of every color under heaven, and both lines wound about the large dining-room in the rear of the dancing floor at Manheim. The time was last evening. The occasion was the long-talked- of *' cake-walk. " Three hundred persons occupied chairs about the walls and in the balconies of the ball room, and beat time to the music of '* I^ucinda's Sere- nade," and watched and waited for the big doors at the end of the room to open and disclose the walkers. Then the doors did open and the double line of walk- ers came up the room. The girl in red, with a small parasol, brought down the house with a passeul that would have done credit to Letty Lind. Her partner realized that he was stepping on a red-hot iron plate kept polishing the floor with red gaitered feet A tall young woman, in a costume smacking of Spanish sympa- thies, executed a catch step that made a pair of very pretty slippers fairly twinkle. The gentleman who had the honor to be her escort jammed his pan-cake hat on his ''guaranteed A I black curled head," and suddenly developed an immense fondness for walking on his knees. Another black lady in snow white duck suit, devoted herself with manifest enjoyment to a promenade back and forth near the spectators, while inviting her escort to take her arm one moment and the next flaunting his advances. Another sprightly walker in a gown of alternate lemon and green panels, cast languishing glances at the men she passed, and made her partner despair with her continuous flirtations. ^ Then on the arm of a slender gentleman, who seemed to take great relish in his role, came a small girl in green and yellow and orange, and pink and salmon and blue, and violet and red and lemon, and violet and cerise and lilac, and all oth^r colors, except black and white. This young woman gave a combination Carmencita and Pitti Sing, of Mi- kado fame, and was evidently very proud of a much beflounced and beflowered underskirt, and everyone seemed just as interested in her performance as she was herself. But, for a matter of fact, there was no one on the floor in whom the spectators didn't seem to be interested. The gentleman with the punch bowl diamond threw its search-light rays over on a hundred faces, and in every one saw a friend and from whom everyone got an encore. The man with a canvas coat and top hat of white recognized some one he knew in every quarter of the room. The very elegant and tall " cuUud " Adonis in tight black and white checkered trousers, with white spats and a cut-away coat was kept busy replying to the remarks with which amiable critics assailed him. The stoutest man who pre- served his gravity and also, much to everyone's surprise, the integrity of his 98 The Witmakk Minstr::l OuinE. The Witmark Minstrel GuiiiE. 99 exceedingly close-fitting garments, despite his gymnastic exercises, was bom- barded witn queries as to how he did it. A willowy girl in a floating gown, which gave everyone the impression of a mantle of lilacs, found herself and her partner singled out again and again for a round of applause. And best of all seemed t^ be that everyone knew every one else and also called them for the most part b^ their first name, and freely offered of that large share of advice which those out o^ the game are so generous with when addressing those who are in the game. 'Round and 'round the room the sixteen couples in the walk proceeded, 'round to the stage where the three judges were seatea on a raised dais, and again facing the gallery at the end of the room, whence bouquets and salvos of handclapping greeted them. Only the presence of so many sober-minded persons and the fact that the lights were out of reach prevented a razor fight — the invariable ending of a cake-walk. But, as it was, the affair resulted in a peaceable division of one half of the splendid edifice of frosted lady cake, and the presentation of the dec- orated half to the winners ; while a pair of giant chickens were triumphantly borne off by the winners of second prize, and a handsome beribboned razor by the winners of the third prize. • Representatives of Society. THE DARKTOWN SOCIETY CAKE-WALK. CAST: Perry Winklk, The Floor Manager and Drum Major. Aminadab Johnson, Skuse Crabapplk, Marshmeixow Munsev, Shampoo Orndorff, Chiropodist Pknck, LaVAIvETTE Hknderson. Zemuei* Beasi.EY, a Society Tough. Bakeshop, a Pastry Cook. Miss Anodyne Seltzer, the Leader of the ** Set." Miss Rebecca Rabbiteoot, Beasley's Gal {best to be played by a Comedian). Miss Oleander Masset, ^ Miss Lulu Batwing, I . . g , , , Miss Mazy Spivins, [ Miss Centipede Kipling, J Cake- Walkers, Society Buds, Judges, Blue Bloods, etc., by rest of Company. Scene — Handsome Interior, Fancy Chamber^ Full Staq^e. Aminadab Johnson and Skuse Crabapple discovered surrounded by a group of colored society folks, tnale and female. The dudes and ladies are dressed in the most ex- travagant costumes, of very shoivy colors and patterns. All affect very ''society'' manners in talk and deportment. John- son and Crabapple come douni stage. Johnson. This will be the cream event of the season, and no one but the blue-blooded four hun- dred of Dark town will be allowed on the#y- floor. ^ Crab. Nol^dy that_work& f OF -ft living can be admitted to our exclusive circles. Johnson. No, indeed ! The opaque and colored exotics cannot mingle with the sub-strata i >f aminadab Johnson, miscellaneous humanity. Skuse Crabapple. ICX) The Witmark Minstrel Guide. The Witmark Minstrel Guide. lOI Crab. Well, I should exhale breezes from my lungs through my nostrils. Miss Anodyne. Tell me, gentlemen ! Is that very ordinary colored person called Rebecca Rabbi tfoot coming to this resplendency ? Johnson. Not on her parsimonious. If she or her admirer ventures in here, they'll meet with some violent opposition. {Enter Perry Winkle, the Master of Ceremonies and ;^, Drum Major, /,. i E. He is a very important personage , very 'f- airy and as if the entire affair depended upon him. Everybody \ greets him pteasantly and all shake hands. ) Perry. I'm glad to see you all. Miss Anodyne. the crowa ! All. I don't s'pose there's a razor in No, indeedy ! This is society ! Perry. That's right ! You don't need razors where there's good breeding. (All bozv.) And you don't need razors where I am. I'm as good as a regiment of razors. I don't like to throw bou- ciuets at mvself, but when it comes to close quarters and fight- ing, you know me ! I've got Injun blooa in me, and you know what that means ! Johnson. Yes, indeed ! YouVe got the name of being a very warm member, when it comes to slashing with a sharp blade. Crab. You certainly wears a wreath of roses. Perry {with pride). You ain't a-flattering me one bit. I knows all my quali- ties and my record tells for itself ! When I steps in the middle Perry winkle of the floor, it means '* give me room," and when I produce my battle-ax it means * * desolation and funerals. " ( All applaud. ) Johnson. As floor manager, you've got charge of this cake-walk. Perry. I own everyone, body and soul. Crab. We look to you that no one mingles with our set during the festivities. This is recherche in the extreme, and the ladies are under your protection. Perry {bows). The ladies have a protector in me. I love them all ! {Enter Rebecca Rabbitfoot and Zemuel Beasley. Rebkbca is a fat, un- couth wench, and Beasley a tough specimen of a barber. He is smoking a long segar and acts very impudently. They enter L, i, E., strut to centre. Everybody falls bcu:k R. and L. in surprise. I02 The Witmark Minstrel Guide. Beasley and Rebecca. Beasley {to Rebecca), We're just in time, and if anybody brings the cake home it's ^oing to be you and me. {Each pointing to self, funny pose for both, ) Johnson (to Perry). You*d better go over and inform them that this is a strictly private affair. Perry {tveakening), I guess they know that without me telling them. Just don't notice 'em and they'll get insulted and go out. Crab. They'll have to be put out. Perry {assuming dignity). Well, go over and put *em both out. Tell 'em I said so. Miss Spivins. Crab. But you're floor manager! Perry. I know, but I resign my position right now. Johnson. You're not afraid, are you ^ Perry {half nervously,) Afraid ? You know my record ! Do you want to start in with a couple of corpses on the floor? You can't walk on a floor all cov- ered with blood, can you ? Johnson. Ah ! You're afraid ! Miss Anodyne. I think the presence of very ordinary negroes is most dis- astrous to my sensitive diaphagram. (Rebecca becomes angry. ) Rebecca. \^'% Don't you call me nigger. Don't you call me nigger with a sanitorium diagram. {She makes a dash at the crowds but Beas- i,EY holds her back. The ladies scream and run to Perry for protection. Perry tries to hide behind the crowd of ladies himself in great fear. Rebecca is very furious, shouting: ''Let me go I Let me at them ! " She jumps up and down 7t/ildly, but is held back by Beas- i*EY. Finally everything is quieted dozvn), Bkasi^ey. This lady has been insulted in here, and I Miss Massct. demand an apology. Munsey. The Witmark Minstrel Guide. 103 Hendersou. Perry. Go ahead ! Somebody apologize to him. Beaslky. I*m going to get an apology or ni kill every nigger in here. Rkbkcca. And I'll kill every wench in the {Another funoHsJii of jumping^ and she is held back by Bkasi^ey. Everybody is terrified agaiii ! Miss Batwiugr. Pp:rry. Hold on ! Hold on ! We apologize, we apologize ! Beasley. All right. We accept your hit initiation ! Rebecca. The Filipinos have surrendered and the American Army is victorious ! Labor downs capital this time. Bkasi.ey. We will allow you to mingle with \\^ ! Rebecca. Yes, we don't despise you because you're ignorant. You ain't as good as 7ve are, but we tolerate you. We'll tolerate you. C»o on with your cake-walk. The pastry belongs to us any way ! Bkaslev. Yes, I'll kill the jud;^e thit decides against us. Rebecca. Who's going to be the judges ? < Ready to attack again. ) Perry. Not me ! I'm only floor manager. Johnson. Not me. I'm only a society bud ! Beasley. You'll be cut down in the flower of your youth if you pester with us ! Rebecca. ily be one left in this room and that wiTrbe me ! Thereil only be one nigger wench ^^ ' ' * ill ' " ^^ Perry {not noticing them^ to balance of company. ) ^^^ The judges are to be selected from Miss Kipling. the spectators or the audience. Orndorff. I04 The WiTMARK Minstrel Guide. BBASLEY. i*ll be the judge and the jury ; don't you forget it Rebecca. And 111 be the Court House ! I've been in 'em all my life. Perry. Then take your places for the Darktown Cake- Walk ! ( Whistles and music begins; every' body crowds over to L. U. E^ so as to step out in couples, to compete. All through the cake-walk Perry is very attentive to everybody. He capers about in front of each couple, juggles the baton and seetns to order every movetnent. Soon as a couple concludes, he goes up to L, U. E, , and motions the next couple to step out and begin . Perry tries to be the central and tnost i>rominent figure throughout, ming- ling here and there, bowing, capering and i^gg^if^g Ihe baton. If he can do this, it ctaas to his importance very much). Miss Batwing and Mr. Henderson. FIRST COUPLE. [Step out from L. U. E., cross over to A* Turn to each other and bow. Then CO Me down R, towards the footlights. Then pause. Execute a few movements^ passing before each other then back again. Then doth bow to Perry, who is down R. Then both gaily walk across stage on lips of toes towards L. i E., pause and bow to audi- ence, then go up stage L., looking back over their F^f^ . Munsey and Miss Spivins. * tarsal audience. Then stand up stage, fliliav ''notions another couple to step out,) Thk Witmask Minstrbl Guidk. IPS SECOND COUPLE. ( They step out, cross over to R, bow to each other, walk around in a circU irniu. She has movements zoith her parasol, swinging It in a circle and up and down as he holds his hat aloft. Then they come down R, towards footlights. Here they pause, then turn and bow to Perry. Then the couple move around each other in a circle. He kneels, she places one foot on his knee ; he pretends to tie her shoe, RiscSy tows, she courtesies and swings parasol. Then arm in arm she crosses over io L. C, Pause, bow to each other and go up stage, ^he swinging parasol and he ufaving hat aloft. Bow and finish up stage. Perry motions next party to step owl. THIRD FIGURH. Johnson with two ladies step out followed by Crabapple. They go arm in arm to R, JOHSSON STtnngs tke ladtes around by ftps of fingers. Then the trio corns down stage R,, Crabapple trying to join in as he follows down after them. When they are dozvn R. Johnson turns and szvings the ladies over to CraBAPPLK who is C. The ladies whirl around and Ckab, extending his anns, catches them and he has them on each artn. He whirls around and laughs at Johnson as he walks away towards L, I, E, wth the ladies, Johnson a little put out folloiving up. They pause L, C. Crab whirls the ladies around and bozvs to each. Takes one by tips of fingers and circles around her, % Then lakes the other in the same way. Then puis on his hat and takes both ladies by tips of fingers and they turn their backs /# audience and go up stage L, looking over their shoulders at audience and smiling. Johnson walks up afterwards in a very grotesque manner, and they all conclwU wp stasre anH hnrv. io6 The Witmark Minstrel Guide. FOURTI. COUPLK. A very tall wan ami short lady to tmike it grotesque. They cross over to R, C* The gentleman spins the lady around like a top, holding her by one hand. Then they walk down N, , he ivalking in a twisting^ bow-legged manner and bending over in funny shapes Doivn stage they bow to Pkrry and gentleman kicks over short lacty^s head ( if he can ). ' Boies to her, offers his arm and they walk over to Z., both bending backwards as far as possible to make it appear as if they were going to top- ple backwards and fall, but they manage to just barely keep their feet. Pause at L, and 'go up stage and then finish. ^ \ Mr. Omdorff and Miss Kipling. The Witmark Minstrki, Guidb. 107 (As many zfv^sque couples as Possible can now be introduced to suit talent oj the company. Then when last couble has completed their cake-walk, both Beaslby a/M/ Rbbbcca, who, during above, have been very impatient now yell out : " Give us room, give us room / " They step out in very grotesque manner to R. and dance a feiv steps. BkasIvEY very agile and capering and Rebecca affecting a very uppish and extravagant style in her walk and conduct. They circle around each other and start dozvn K. Beasley executes a few steps and Rebecca tries to imitate them At this moment a darkey zvith luhite apron, cook^s cap and jacket, enters at back holding up a huge cake. All shout for joy at its appearance, and soon as Rebecca sees the cake she utters a whoop and yelt and goes into a fit, capering and jumping. Everybody alarmed. All thejnen_draMj£U^-£a2Qrs. Beasi«ey pulls out a large razor and rushes forwardTcaptures the cake^ and a general razor fight takes place , ) B«asley and Rebeoca in a walk of their own. BeasLtEy smashes the cake upon Rebecca's head. The bottom of the cake is covered with pater and her head comes out through the card board top. She yells and capers while the ladies up the stage faint, the men defending themselves from Bkasuey's attack. On this picture a quick Curtain, If OTE '.—Another finish to the cake-walk zvould be: All gather around Rh- BECCA when she has the fit and all bring her bottles, etc., to revive her. Then let Perry ask the judges (audience): " l^ho is entitled to the cake f '* And the audi- ence will confer cake uboti the couple who, in its estimation, -walked the most grace- fully , and with novel movefnents. As the cake is thus presented to the zoinning couple, all join arm in arm and march off up the stage, looking ai the audience, two by two, or, they may stand in a circle bozoing, as the curtain descends, the winners being in the centre of dhe circle. Music playing and all cheering. io8 The Witmark Minstrel Guide. THE WONDERFUL TELEPHONE- A FIRST PART FINALE.— ALSO GOOD FOR AN AFTER- PI KCE. N. B. — This SReun reads as if tne events were transpiring in Pfiiladetphiu. It can be localized to suit any town or city. Have the ** Brother from London " journey across the ocean, land hint in New York; then, ad lib., describe his jour- ney rapidly to your own toxvn or city— east, west, north or south. Important. — A wire is attached in flies, L, i E,, and crosses over to a point in R, I E , where it is attached by a screw-eye in the stage. On this wire — uf> in thefiies — is attached the dummy ready to cross, descending at an angle 0/45^, It ts held in place by a string, which is cut or loosened at cue and sent down and across. See illustration beloiv. This sketch or finale can also be played by ladies, in zvhich case change names to suit. Middle (after last song is sung on first part). Gentlemen, I'm going down to the telephone office to send a message to a friend. Tambo. To the telephone office ? Why, I belong to the Edison Telephone. Bones. What a strange coincidence. I belong to the Bell Telephone. Tambo. Now, there's no use of you going down to thef)ffice. V\\ bring the office up here. (Substitute I have my office here, if ^ phone is already hung on pro- scenium arch,) Middle. You*U bring {or substitute You have ) the office up here ? Tambo. Yes ; 1*11 bring (or, I have ) an instrument up here. Our telephones are the best Bones. Excuse me ; our telephones are the very best The Witmark Minstrbl Guidb^. 109 MlDDI^B. Now, we'll settle it this way. Both of you bring {or^ show) your rival telephones up here and I'll test them. Whichever is the best I'll patronize in the future. Tambo. All right 1 I'll go after mine (Exii)y {or^ ffere^s mif$e, pointing to his ^ phone). MiDDIvE. Gentlemen, well now see a test of the long>di8tance telephones, and be judges of the claims advanced by the rival agents. (End nten bring imitation telephones from R. and L, and hang them at extreme edge of proscenium l>y a ring on a nail. Or, if the telephones are in place during the entire show, the end tnefi need not go out after them, in which ease the end men will use the substituted speeches, i Tambo. Now for the test — and mine is in good order. Bonks This is the instrument. This is what's called the hear-o-phone. This is where you talk. I s'pose you can /^// a 'phone vrhen you see it f That's phony but I can't help it. Now I'll show you how it works. (Rings.) Hello! Hello! Chicai^o ! Chicago ! ( Pauses and rings again.) (Note. — The rnds must loork as though they were at real 'phones, using their best judgment to make ii seem as natural as possible. ) Sometimes you have to wait two or three years for an answer from Chicago. {^Alarm clock or electric bell rings in entrance. ) Ah ! there's the answer ! (Call- tng in 'phone.) What was the matter? (Receiver to ear, calling out as if repeat- ing.) St. Louis was standing o»i the line? Ah! yes— eh? — of course — yes — (in * phone) — New York — I say, New York ! (louder) New York — ^whereisit? Why, it's the liveliest town of its age you ever saw. Yes — its down near Hoboken (or mention small town near by). Yes; now you know where it is. Yes — we're giving a show here — Who ? Yes — he's heie-— Sam ! Chairman of our committee —yes — ( To MiddU ) — By the way, Sam, what is your name ? Middle. Why, Sam. KONES (imitating and calling in 'phone). Why, Sam ! Middle. No I no ! no ! Sam, without the why. Bones (in 'phone). Ycft— Sam without the why. Middle. No ! no f Just simply Sam. Bones (in 'phoniT,. Yes — simple Sam. Middle. No, sir ! no. sir ! no, sir ! Bones (in 'phoned. He says he's got no nose, sir— Where ?— Sherman House— 527— Oh I he'll settle that when he goes West. Middle. What's that? no The Witmark Minstrel Guide. Bones {lo Middle). Did you stop at the Sherman House while in Chicago ? They're asking about a bill you owe them of J27. Middle. I don't owe anybody in Chicago. Bonks {yeils in 'phone). He says he owes everybody in Chicago ! (Tambo's telephone rings, and he darts suddenly to it. ) Tambo. Hello ! I've got a bite ! ( Comedy bus. at 'phone.) Hello ! — hello ! — ^hello ! — hel — lo ! (Louder and louder. To Middle,) I guess I've struck a deaf and dumb asylum! In 'phone.) Hello! (Bell rings. ^ Ah! you're there, are you? Where have you been? (Smiles, talks through 'phone. ) Send me five cents and I'll go out and get one too Stand further away from the 'phone; you've been eating onions. Yes, yes — (laughs) — certainly (laughs) — yes — I knew them when they were courting. No! no! (Surprised). You — you — don't say so! — when? This morning! (7.aughs.) What! Twins? MlDDI^E. Now, look here ! I'm quite dry. Let's go out and have a glass of beer. {Say soda /or ladies.) Tambo. ^ You needn't go out. I'll bring a glass of beer over our line. Middle. Do you mean to say you can bring a glass of beer over the wires ? Tambo. Yes, sir; I'll show you? (Rings bell.) Hello! (Outside bell replies.) Con- nect me with a brewery — send over a glass of beer (outside bell rings), and here it is. ( Takes a ^lass of beer from a box attached beside the 'phone, or it is handed out slyly from side of entrance close to the 'phone, unobservea by the audience.) Middi,b:. That's wonderful ! ( Tambo drinks it. ) Here ! I thought that was for me ! Tambo. 'Tis for you. For you to look at ! (Replaces glass. ) Bones. Do you want a glass of beer? Hold on. I'll get one for you. (Rings 'phone and bell replies.) Connect me with (local place). One glass of beer for Sam. {outside bell rings) and here it is. ( Takes out glass of clear water. ) Middle. Why, that's water. Bones. I guess they must know you at the brewery. This beer isn't brewed yet I guess you owe a bill there too. (Replaces glass ) Middi,e. I tell you what I'd like. I remember they have some very fine segars (/du/iirf say candy) at the (local hotel or store) in {neighboring town). Can you bring me a box of segars from that city ? This Witmark Minstrsl Guids. hi Bones. Certainly I Hello? {Calls name of city several tintes,) Connect me with {local) Hotel. ( Bell rings. ) One box of segars. (Bell rings J and a man zvith a segar box dashes out flip-flapping from R. t E, , places box in Middle* s hand ana dashes out quick again R. r E, After he goes out both End Men jump and dance ad lib,) End Men. Goodness I We're full of electricity too ! Middle. Well, this is truly wonderful ; I wish my brother could see this. Tambo. Where is your brother? Middle. lA>ndon, England. Tambo. I'll fetch him over. ( Goes to and calls in * phone- ) Hello ! hello, London I I want London ! I don't want much, do I ? (Bows grotesquely at ^phone,) Middle. To whom are you bowing ? Tambo. The Prince of Wales just passed by. {Bus. at and talks in ^ phone, ) I want Sam's brother — yes, Sam's brother — what? Oh! all right. I can't bring him. (Hangs up receiver. ) Middle. What's the matter? Tambo. His time isn't up yet. They've got him at work making shoes. Middle. My brother is not in jail, and he's not a shoemaker. Tambo. No; he's only learning. Wait until I try again. (Calls in ^ phone). I want Sam's brother. (Repeats.) All right (to Middles, I've got him, I've got him, Sam \ (Calls in ^ phone.) Take our telephone line and come over. ( To Middle.) He says he'll come. (Looks in ^ phone. ) He's packing his trunk— there goes the same old paper collar I lent him. Now he's started. (Music very piano ^ galop. Bus, of describing (he journey,) Now he's half way over. Oh, Sam ! Sam ! There's a big steamship run right over your brother (all in alarm) ^ but he's all right. His cheek hittne vessel and knocked off the propeller. Now he's coming like a flash. Oh, Sam f Sam I (cries) prepan* yourself for sad news — ^there's a shark after your brother I Oh, Sam I the shark nas swallowed — Middle (despairingly). My poor brotli«r? (Cink excited, ) 113 Th^ Witmark Minstrel Guide. Tambo. Hook, now No ; your brother has swallowed the shark. Now he's at Sandy 1 he's passing Jersey City, now he's crossing the Delaware River, now he's {Describe all the towns he passes through to reach your city^ or rather name them rapidly. This is arranged /or Philadelphia, ) in (mention your city, ) He is turning the comer (name street)^ and here he is ! (Hurry, music forte, everybody excited, and a dummy with carpet-bag and distinct costume— duster, white hat, black pants, etc. — darts down a wire from flies L. down at an angle 0/4$ degrees, far tnto R, i E. where it is fastened. All shout as it crosses. Soon as dummy is sent into entrance a man in exact counter- part of dress, etc., runs out of R. i E. and Middle, End Men and all joyfully greet him^ shaking hands and cheering him.) Quick Curtain. OUR GIRLS AT SCHCX)L* CAST: Miss Discipline, The Teacher. Baby Molasses, The Victim. Sally Freckles, The Dunce. Lucy Locket, A Bright Girl. Mary Grammar, Edith Syntax, Belle Geometry, Carrie Alphabet, Ruth Algebra, LiLLiK Division, Mattie Mathics, - The Young Lady Scholars, Scene— /Ya/w chamber; door in flat; several benches ranged across stage R ; Teacher's desk down L. C; split sticks, books, bell, etc., upon her desk; a stool R C. with Dunce* s pointed cap. made of white cardboard, with the tvord ^^ Dunce'* in black letters. ^ ( Teacher, who is supposed xo be an eccentric old maid, with spectacles, fum^ Wig and old-fashioned garments, is discovered, bell in hand.) The Witmark Minstrel Guide. 113 Teacher. My scholaiB are late this morning. 1*11 let them know it. (Rings bell violently. Girl scholars with books. A B C cards ^ etc.y enter door in flat. All exclaim^ ^' Good morning. Teacher.'^ Teacher replies ^ *^ Good morn* '«^. young ladieSy^ and they seat themselves upon the benches and begin to study,) Teacher (at desk). My scholars are not all here. Where is Baby Molasses and I^ucy Locket ? Girls. We don't know. (Baby, who is a fat girl, and Lucy sneak in through door in flat-— run to benches and push girls away to make room and they sit down and study aloud. Teacher, rapping for silence and attention, dis,covers them. ) Teacher. Ah I there you are . Come here, both of you. Come here, Baby Molasses, and you, Miss Lucy Locket ( The girls indicated come down C. sniffling ) What kept you so late, Miss Locket ? Lucy. Well, you see, teacher, I was home dreaming, and dreaming that I was going to Europe. (Hesitates as if making up the story. ) And I dreamed that I was late and I ran to the wharf to catch the boat for Europe because I could hear the bell ringing, and — ^and — I woke up — ^and it was the school-house bell that was ringing. (Smiles in a silly manner at her excuse. ) Teacher. A very good excuse ; and you. Baby Molasses, what kept you so late? Baby. I — I — ^I went down to the wharf to see her off to Europe. Teacher. Go to your seats, both of you (they go to seats) and study your lessons I Ah I Who has seen our dunce? Who has seen Sally Freckles ? Girls. Nobody. (Sally, the dunce, runs in through door, pushes a girl off bench and sits down. Takes a book from another one and begins to study. * * Tvtice one is two, twice two is six, twice six is fifty-four, * * etc. Teacher checks her, ) Teacher. Stop it! Stop it! That is not your place, Miss Freckles. Put on that dunce's cap, and stand on that pedestal until you learn your lessons. (Sally pouts and sniffles, but puts on dunce* s cap, and stands upon the stool R. C. All the girls secretly laugh at her and she tries to reach over to slap one of them and nearly falls off the stool. Teacher raps for silence and attention.) Teacher. Now, young ladies, we will begin our studies and I want you to be very attentive. (Sally has a putty-blower and shows it to girls, who appear delighted. Sally blows putty at teacher — some one in entrance L. makes a sound of two blocks of wood striking each other to imitate putty striking teacher's face. Teacher yells, *umPs and capers out to C.) 114 ^^^ WiTMARK Minstrel Guide. Teacher. Ob. dear I oh, dear ! My eye is put out ! Who blew that putty at me ? {All ihe girls point at Baby,) GlRI